Loyal lives, Forbidden Love
by SoulEatingSpork
Summary: SpiritxJustin mpreg yaoi. The story of this starting relationship begins in just a simple event on an unusual night. The Deathscythes find themselves fathers, and later in a whole mess of trouble as faith and loyalties are slowly shaken loose.
1. Running

**This is a fanfic that both my friend [Wolf] and I [Sporkie] are working on. We alternate chapters and at some points alternate paragraphs in a chapter. I **_**do**_** have her permission to upload this to but I am in no way trying to claim her writing as my own. In fact, after every chapter I will write who it was by. **

**The idea of Spustin [SpiritxJustin] for us, originally started out as simply a crack Roleplay on . Eventually the cracky random slightly disturbing roleplay evolved into something more sweet and intimate, and that is when Spustin was born. [at least for us]**

**Jordon Albarn, one of the few characters[perhaps even the only one] in this fic that belongs to us and not Soul Eater was originally created a during our very first crack Spustin RP. And now look, he's a key focus of the this fanfic.**

**Anyway, enough blabbing, time to get on with the fic! 8D Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 1: Running**

It was late in the afternoon resulting in a low hanging sun. It cast an orange hue over Death City. Seven children stood in a court yard in front of the Death God, Shinigami-sama. Their ages ranged between five to ten years of age; the majority of them eight and up. However, there was one boy, the youngest who was the age of five, Jordon Albarn. As they stood on the cobble stone of the brick fenced area, he carefully watched his God, studying every word he had to say although most likely not understanding much other than the key points of his instructions. The children sat on a stone built planter where an oak tree loomed over them, its leaves whispering in the soft breeze.

Beside Shinigami-sama stood a man dressed in a basic but poorly thrown together costume of the evil Demon God, Asura. Apparently they weren't looking for too much authenticity. The man's body language showed he seemed rather annoyed or embarrassed by the outfit he wore; it was probably something Shinigami had forced the man into. Jordon giggled a bit. Despite the scarf that covered the male's face, he could tell it was his papa, Spirit. Although it really shouldn't have been a surprise, since Spirit was Shinigami-sama's weapon and always at his side it seemed.

The kids had gathered that day to participate in a pre-schooling training session; private lessons Shinigami-sama had decided to start for promising students intending to master the art of being a Meister or a weapon. These kids would most likely start the school a year or two early, Jordon perhaps even three to four years early seeing just whom his parents were. That was, of course, if his parents decided to let him start that early.

"Today 'Asura' and my self will be searching through Death City for you kids. Stay out of sight, or run fast if you want to pass this lesson. It will teach you different skills to avoid an enemy. In a way it's like a game of 'hide and go seek', however you don't know what will happen if you fail to hide and are spotted by one of us..."

The children giggled at how the friendly Death God tried to intimidate them. It was just a lesson, and of course they had to do well but no reason to be afraid; but Shinigami-sama's intimidation worked on one child. Jordon just stared at the God, trembling, thinking to himself, '_Kamio-sama…Is comin athter us?… He won't huwrt us will he…? An' Papa… Papa wouldn't huwrt me either… but…'_

"This 'game' will end when the sun sets. There are markers surrounding the area you must stay within. Be back here in the court yard by the tree when the game is over." The Death God instructed, the kids nodding. He continued. "I will give you a 5 minute head start…. Starting… NOW!"

With that the kids ran off, Jordon still staring at Shinigami-sama and his Asura dressed papa with fear. Slowly one foot moved in front of the other before he was off in a wobbly sprint.

Spirit was watching him with a tad bit of concern as Jordon ran off.

The hours passed, the sun sinking slowly to the earth. One by one the kids were being spotted and chased. Three were out, and there was yet four to go with only ninety minutes remaining. Among the four was the young Albarn kid that had been at it non-stop; his little heart racing like crazy. The poor boy looked stressed and terrified beyond measure as he quickly walked through the alleyways. He was studying everything around him. He was looking up and down, left, right, back, and forth before each step he took. Suddenly he heard movement, and a Shinigami-sama's serious voice that called, "I'll go this way, I think I heard something…"

For a moment he felt like his heart had stopped. The Death God was going to catch him, and something bad was going to happen. Frantically he searched the alley. All around him were tall brick walls. Shinigami's shadow slowly crept into view and if he didn't hurry he would spot him. The boy ran into a sprint, panic written on his face, his lungs burned and his heart beat wildly.

Another alley branching off from the one he was in came into sight and he took the turn, hiding within a dark inverted doorway where he could rest and hide.

Jordon's breath was shaky, he pressed one hand over his chest and, with the other, he reached up and put it over his mouth, making sure not to let out a peep. However, that was difficult, when he was breathing so hard.

The deformed shadow of his God slowly slithered along, creeping by. The Death God himself eventually came into Jordon's view. Seeing him, the boy's breathing completely came to a halt, and he pressed himself against the stone corner of the inverted door way and into the shadows further. Tightly the boy squeezed his eyes, praying he wouldn't be found. Saying the boy was horrified would be an understatement.

'_Don't worry Jordon, it's just training with Shinigami-sama. No need to be nervous. After all you're around him all the time. Now have fun today. Daddy loves you.'_ Justin's words repeated in his head but he now wondered.

'_No need to worwy?' _He thought, the child trembled with terror perhaps this was a tad too much for the young boy. '_This is scarwie. I jwust wanna go home.'_

Shinigami-sama stopped peering around, his gaze eventually scanning through the door way Jordon hid within. The young kid could feel beads of sweat forming on his brow, his entire body tense with fear. After what seemed like thirty minutes Shinigami-sama moved up darting down the alley, leaving without evening noticing the child.

The boy relaxed once knowing for a fact he was gone. He inched forward, slowly peeking outside of the door way, looking towards where Shinigami had left then back toward where they both entered. A sigh of relief escaped him and he took a step back into the door way, but this time bumped into something.

He suddenly froze his eyes flying open. A soft cloth caressed his cheek, causing the boy to gulp and slowly tilt his head up. With wide terrified eyes he saw his papa who was cosplaying Asura. He relaxed momentarily before realizing, no, it wasn't his Papa. This aura he felt was entirely different that that of Spirit's. Jordon's eyes grew wide yet again, and his breath caught painfully. His recently settled heart rate began picking up again. This Asura, the real Demon God, stared down at him. An insane grin warped across his face. The three Kishin eyes on his scarf burned it's image into the child's very soul. Jordon squeaked, quickly turning around to face him and stepping back, tripping as he did. He fell to the ground. The young boy stared with his mouth agape up at the demon, scrabbling back but only bumping into the wall that was across from the door way. Four tentacle like scarves shot out towards the boy, who let out a tiny cry, before silence filled the alley again.

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****This Chapter was written by Sporkie.**


	2. Days of Serendipity

**Chapter 2: Days of serendipity**

_There are things in life that I know can't be avoided. I've seen it all to often. Good things, bad things- it doesn't matter. You can argue that it's because I'm a man of faith but, quite frankly, I _do _believe in fate. I believe in that notion that some things are meant to be- whether it be for the worse, or the betterment, of ourselves..._

Sighing, Justin Law closed his Bible with a soft 'snap'. He leaned back in the pew he had been occupying, his ever distant gaze drifting up towards the hanging figure of Jesus Christ. No matter how many prayers he uttered today, he couldn't help but still feel nervous for his little angel, Jordon Albarn.

_...I _do_ believe in fate. I always have, and always will._

It had indeed been a twist of fate that landed both the roguish Spirit Albarn and the cherub faced Jordon into the Guillotine's life. It was a simple night, and an extraordinary event, that caused both of the men's lives to change forever more. Justin had always wondered if, perhaps, it was originally a mishap on the redheaded man's part. After all, he had been drinking heavily that night, and when Justin closed his eyes to this day and let his mind drift back to that very memory, he could still smell the stench of alcohol that nearly drenched the scythe and could still practically taste it on his own tongue and breath, as if Spirit was diving his tongue into the heated dome of mouth once again.

As far as it was concerned, after that night (and after the moment of shock had passed, once they both groggily woke up in a single bed, completely and utterly naked), they had become closer than ever. They knew others would look down upon them for their little affair, but both Justin and Spirit didn't mind this.

However, despite not caring what others thought, they still tried to keep the secret hidden from society at times. Only a chosen few truly knew their little secret, and one of them was none other than Stein-hakase, Spirit Albarn's previous Meister. Even with Stein knowing, they kept it very hush-hush around the man. As to the reason, well, that was a different tale all in itself.

Falling blissfully into love and tumbling head first into their affair, it surprised them when Jordon popped into their lives. Justin had often tried to comprehend what had happened, but to save him from the headaches from his strained brainstorming, he decided just to thank his God and his Savior for the simple blessing that came waddling on two unsure feet.

Today had marked a special day for their child, Jordon (or "Jordo", a lovingly picked out nickname from the "Papa", or Spirit). Today was the day that he, along with several other kids, was to be tested by Kamio-sama himself in order to see if the boy could survive being hunted down by his enemies. It was a fun little thing that the kids participated in during the pre-school training sessions with the Death God. It might have seemed a tad intimidating for some (and, perhaps, downright scary to the others), but Justin had a feeling that Jordon would not only have fun, but be perfectly fine and succeed.

Or, at least, he _hoped _that Jordon would be fine.

Justin had been worried, as all parents would, when their kids were involved in something like that. It was a naturalistic mental connection of fears that the two parents would share, and commonplace held them in a situation where they would worry, fret and stress over the smallest things. Justin Law was no exception. He had spent most of the morning at the Church that he was allowed to temporarily make his home whilst staying in Death City. Once there, he had fervently prayed for Jordon's success. Some may have considered it a vain thing to ask of one's God over such a personal thing like that when others had 'much bigger problems' in the world, but Justin didn't care. Jordon and Spirit were worth everything to him. They were his life and his one true motivation to keep going on, day after day.

'_It'll be okay,' _Spirit had said with a lopsided grin as he had begun putting on that poorly made Kishin God outfit earlier that morning. His voice was a little stiff as a flush of embarrassment colored his cheeks. Justin's laughter wasn't really helping his situation at all. _'Really, Jasu, he's a strong kid. You know he'll be okay. And, besides, let's face it: with me being there, I can make sure nothing goes wrong.'_

"It'll be okay," Justin repeated those words back to himself. He glanced down at the white Bible that rested in his hands. The smooth leather surface of the book was satisfying to the touch. "Spirit said it would be alright, so I'll trust him on that." Lifting his head up a bit, he stared back up at his sculpted Savior as he hung, erected, on that austere cross. "Besides," he voiced out loud, almost directing it towards the figurine. "What could possibly go wrong?"

Silence, like a heavy mantle, blanketed Justin. He looked around, wishing that he wasn't the only one visible in the Church. Oh, how he longed for some noise to be made! He wanted a distraction to keep his mind from snapping with his fear and parental paranoia.

Breathing in deep, he stood up. He absentmindedly patted on the bottom of his Priest robes, watching the dust drift off of his clothing and fly into the air. Crinkling his nose, he sent up another prayer- this one for the cleaners or janitor to clean the place more thoroughly than this. No wonder hardly anyone visited this small church, nestled on the outskirts of Death City. Not many people knew of it, but it still held a big enough attendance to stay open.

Turning on his heel, Justin walked down the center aisle, exiting the church. Once at the doors, he pushed all his weight against them, managing to open the ancient, decrepit doors. The overall church had a bucolic feel- quite rustic and cozy in charm- and it had appealed to Justin's tastes when he had been searching for a place to stay. He had declined Spirit's offer for him to stay at his apartment, only because he didn't want the elder Deathscythe to get in trouble lest their dirty little secret be found out. He had truly appreciated the offer, but Spirit and Jordon's safety came to mind first.

Once outside, he let out a sigh of relief. A sweet, crisp breeze brushed by him, playing with his hair and robes. It felt nice to feel that. The church was a trifle stuffy, and with the lackadaisical cleaning efforts lately, it was beginning to get a tad musty in there.

The young Priest glanced up towards the sky. Blinking, a worried look passed over his normally calm and emotionally detached face. _How long was I in church_, he mused to himself. _Was I really in there for hours? Couldn't be..!_

Despite him mentally arguing with himself, he couldn't deny the fact that he had lost track of time. The sun had begun to set, and the sky was aflame with a heinous salmon hue. It was bright and vicious in color, and at parts the sky seemed to be coated with a covering of blood. It made Justin shiver a little, and he tried to calm himself. _Once again,_ he thought, _this is me jumping to conclusions. Nothing bad has happened. Absolutely nothing!_

_Lately I've been getting a horrible, sick feeling that something bad is about to happen. It's lurking beneath the surface, waiting to strike at any time._

Grumbling to himself, he tucked the Bible underneath his arm and began heading down the street. He was upset with himself. He had promised to meet up with Spirit and Jordon, after his little boy's lesson, at Spirit's apartment. He wanted to hear about his son's day, and that way Justin could celebrate the assured victory that his little one had acquired. However, judging by the setting sun and the pestilent colored sky, he could tell that he was going to be late if he didn't hurry.

He could easily set up for the cake he had bought and stored in one of Spirit's cabinets. That, of course, didn't take much time at all. However, managing to prepare the cake and cookies without Jordon knowing would practically be impossible unless he hurried there and set up before the boy and his Papa got home. Jordon was blessed with what all kids his age were given: he was extremely receptive and attentive to every detail. For parents, when it came to planning anything, the children's gifts were always their curses.

_Something bad is going to happen, and it's driving me insane. I feel like I'm getting no where. I'm running, trying to keep ahead of whatever is coming, but I'm starting to loose my footing. This invisible enemy is winning the race, and I'm collapsing from my own failure to protect everyone from their impending doom._

He picked up his pace, now breeching an almost headlong sprint. His heart was starting to pound against his delicate ribs, and it felt as if his lungs were becoming strained with the effort. Sweat was beading on his forehead.

He knew he must have looked rather comical. It wasn't every day that a music loving Priest was dashing down a street as if being chased by banshees, muttering over and over 'I'm late, I'm late'!, like some frazzled, holy white rabbit.

Right about then, Justin had wished he had taken his dune buggy. Alas, he had hoped he would have gotten out in time to walk to Spirit's place, so he had left it behind. It had been such a lovely day, after all. Kamio-sama had blessed the denizens of Death City well!

_This could just be a feeling, but..._

He subconsciously found that each panicked, rushed footfall of his was being driven by the pulsating, throbbing bass that reverberated from his headphones. The buzzing of the tempo was somewhat calming, but it still didn't chase away his nervous jitters.

Darkness was starting to take over and conquer the town, so it was getting harder to make anything out. Street lamps were blinking on, one after another. Shops and other locales for entertainment were shutting their doors, whilst barkeeps were wiping down their tables and preparing for another night of hardy cash gathering and entertaining.

He squinted suddenly. What was that up ahead? He could just barely make out something that was coming his way, almost at an equal speed.

Caught unawares, Justin kept pressing forward. With each step he took, he got closer to the being in question and, therefore, the blackened and strange shape of the approaching 'thing' was becoming clearer. It appeared as if it had some arms, or something, trailing from behind it, flapping in self created wind.

Taking a breath, Justin opened his mouth and blurted out loudly in a commanding voice, "halt! Who goes there? Is there something-"

Justin's voice died away. His eyes widened in fear as he saw none other than the Kishin God bolting straight towards him. The cold, grasping claws of maddening fear grappled with the Priest's soul, and he found himself skidding to a halt. Panting, his sides aching and his lungs literally on fire, he stared back at the approaching Demon God.

The look on the beast's face was terrifying. It was of fear, of worry, of anger...

_Because I don't know what's going to happen, I can't very well prevent whatever is going to _happen_ to my family..._

Throwing out his arm and raising it in front of him as a form of protection, he blinked his eyes, manifesting the sharp Guillotine blade to protruded from his sleeve. The blade caught a few stray beams from an overhead street lamp, and the polished edge gleamed ominously.

With emotionless eyes he watched the approaching Demon God stumble upon sight of the blade. The bestial man slowed down, but still continued approaching the Priest, though his movements were much slower and more hesitant now.

Justin couldn't feel any madness radiating from the being, but one couldn't always tell that. Asura had been known to be a sly one, keeping himself hidden in more ways than one. Gulping, Justin remained steadfast and resolute. "Halt! In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy-"

"Oi!" Shouted the approaching Demon God. "Justin, what the hell are you doing?!"

Gasping, Justin quickly lowered his arm, dismissing his blade. He had faintly heard that cry over the bass of his music, and that alone was enough. That voice was all too familiar and, as the Demon God got within a few feet, slowed down and doubled over in front of him in order to regain his lost oxygen, Justin could safely see it was Spirit beneath those baggy clothes and scarves.

Quickly striding over to the redhead, Justin could clearly see that Spirit was still wearing the gaudy, poorly rushed Asura outfit. In fact, it was so obvious that it was a costume that Justin felt a little embarrassed, thinking it was the real deal. Granted, he was viewing him from far away, but still...

"Spirit, what's wrong? You were running at me like Shibusen was on fire!"

Worriedly glancing around, Justin noted that Jordon wasn't with him. Feeling bile surge up his throat, he tried to push it down. Surely Spirit wasn't searching him down because...?

"Sorry I wasn't at the apartment." Justin rubbed the back of his neck, nervously cracking a grin. "I stayed too long at the church, and I never made it to-"

"Jordon's missing!"

Inside Justin's head he heard what sounded like glass smashing, the millions of twinkling shards of his sanity scattering in the imaginary wind. His mouth went dry, and he felt his body begin to tremble. He had hoped that what he had read Spirit's lips wrong. After all, in Spirit's condition, he was so out of breath that he had to pause and pant every few seconds. It could have easily distorted what he was saying.

Justin quickly fumbled with his iPod, turning the volume down until it was almost completely off. Bracing himself, he put a trembling hand on Spirit's shoulder. "W-What...? What did you say...?"

Spirit quickly stood upright, causing Justin's hand to slide off. The scythe weapon was still panting, and he looked at Justin with panic stricken eyes.

"J-Jordon's gone!"

_...and I'm loosing my mind because of it._

**Chapter by: Wolf**

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	3. Gone

**Chapter 3: Gone**

As those words came forth so did the tears. Spirit quickly tried wiping them away but was unsuccessful when more overflowed from his eyes. The older Deathscythe pulled the young priest into his arms, trying to be as much comfort as he could despite this tragic news and the poor way he handled it. He was greatly confused and beyond worry. It was the sort of thing that you never expected would happen to you. The red haired man clutched at his love tightly, not wanting to explain the rest. He still couldn't believe what they found, and to see Justin's reaction would burn the remains of his already shattered heart.

Only two children had passed the lesson earlier that evening. Both came back with grins on their faces as the game of 'hide and go seek' had come to an end. Four others sat bored on the planter where the tree grew, disappointed they had failed the day's lecture. Shinigami-sama right away went to congratulate the two that approached, while Spirit stood frozen, watching the only entrance to the courtyard where his son should have been coming from. After giving the kids un-meaningful congrats and saying farewell, Spirit removed the scarves that had seemed to wrap around tighter around his head and throat constricting his airway and breathing. As night approached no sign of Jordon was seen or heard, and finally after a long stress and suspense filled wait, Spirit finally convinced the Death God to go in and search for him. What he found confirmed the nightmare he feared his family was falling into.

"J-Justin," Spirit stuttered before taking a deep breath and gulping. He still held onto the trembling young man tightly. "I…The news… it-- ... I have more." Spirit felt Law flinch.

M_ore!? _The boy shrieked in his mind. _What else could there be…? _On second thought, perhaps he didn't want to know.

Slowly Mr. Albarn moved his hands to Justin's shoulders where he held him out at arms length. "We couldn't find Jordon, he never returned, and he was no where in the city. Shinigami-sama and some others are still looking, but… I fear, he's long gone."

The priest's eyes widened, his knees almost giving out beneath him. "N-N …Not that! I don't hope that happened, and I pray we find him… It's just…"

Spirit glanced toward the ground, his bangs hanging in his face, darkening out his features. "We found his shoe." A new batch of tears streamed down his cheeks. "His little untied shoe was found tossed aside in one of the alleys towards the edge of our boundaries. We- We're beginning to wonder if he was kidnapped…"

"BY WHO!?" Justin grabbed onto Spirit's clothing , pulling himself closer to the man and burying his face into his chest. Through muffled words, he cried, "WHO WOULD DO THAT!?"

As the two lovers drowned in their ever present turmoil, the answer to Justin's very question continued to churn out it's dastardly plot.

Not far from a small town that resided deep within a forest stood a lone warehouse that was overgrown with plants and vines. The trees were even growing from inside of the building, their tall stalks exiting right through the numerous holes in the roof. The old dented steel of the structure was barely even visible behind the foliage that consumed it.

Deep within the bowels of the building, the vast emptiness was broken. Inside of a room resided a being who wanted solitude. Today he'd get a rather rude awakening.

A low moan was produced from the door as it was slowly pried open. The single man sitting on a couch had just finished another bottle of beer, and he tossed the empty bottle to the ground to add to his collection. His gaze moved from the ceiling towards the entrance once hearing this movement and he slowly sat up, squinting through the light that streamed in from the door while baring his razor sharp teeth. Swinging his legs around to sit correctly on the piece of furniture Giriko snapped, "what the hell took you so long!?"

Asura entered their temporary hide out and the chainsaw noticed in his scarves hung a limp boy who was out cold. "Who the hell is he!? I told you to find Justin, not this little fuc-"

"Must you use such fowl language, Giriko?" Asura mentioned calmly as he gradually approached the couch the other man sat on.

Giriko snarled then moved his glance slowly from Asura to the young boy as the Demon God placed him on the couch beside him. "I, unlike some people here, have plans that require strategy… You know, plans that need deep thinking to be created?"

The independent weapon huffed at the God's comment. "So what's with the kid? … More importantly, where is Justin Law?! You promised me you'd get him for me so I could kill the bastard."

"Patience, Giriko. Justin will come… along with another Death Scythe. Both of our intentions will be able to be played out; all there is left to do is wait for them to take the bait." A twisted smile curled over Asura's features as he reached down and ran his bony fingers through the unconscious child's hair. "Plus… don't forget you still need to go through with your part of the bargain before I let you lay a hand on that Law kid."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever..." He paused then seemed to become somewhat interested. "So whats with this… other Deathscythe?"  
"…Spirit Albarn, Shinigami's weapon. With him gone it will open an opportunity for me to move in and attack the defenseless school and it's headmaster. The Death God won't stand a chance without him."

"And what is this little shit to them?"  
"It's their son…" The Demon God simply stated.  
Giriko stared in shock _Their,__ son? Justin… and Spirit's, son? How is that even possi-?! _

The heretic chainsaw would have continued his train of thoughts, but they were interrupted.

"Did you get the cage I asked for?" Asura demanded.

The weapon nodded and jumped up retrieving the cage that was requested. Asura wrapped a scarf around the boy and gently laid him within the cage that Giriko brought forth, slamming the door shut with the same strange limb.

"It won't be long now Giriko. We will have what we both want soon enough..."

**Chapter by: Sporkie**


	4. Falsified protection, emerging

**Chapter 4: Falsified protection, emerging hope**

"Goddammit," Spirit swore softly under his breath. "Why did this have to happen?"

Justin blearily looked up from his defeated position on Spirit's bed. He had sat down, heavy with grief and depression, his lanky form slouched forward. He felt numb all over, and all his energy had been sucked from his now seemingly lifeless husk of a body.

They had returned to Spirit's apartment, hell-bent on figuring out a course of action to take. It was a time for regrouping, and a time for regathering their wits and organizing a foolproof plan. They knew they had to get Jordon back- there wasn't any doubt in their mind about that. However, that didn't mean they had to run around, reckless, all in an uprising panic until they resembled nothing more than headless chickens.

The lone, echoing chime of the nearby clock gave praise to the current time as it slipped past three in the morning. The laughing, boastful sun had long since slipped past the earth, disappearing beyond the horizon. In it's place rose that disturbing moon. Looming high above in the twinkling sky, it peered down at the ground below, twitching and grinding it's teeth together. The blood that dribbled down from it's smirking maw seemed even more menacing and heinous to the two lamenting parents, considering the day's previous events.

Ever since Spirit had notified his lover of the foul crime, they had been in a frantic search for their son. They had scoured every last corner of the city. Every nook, cranny and darkened alleyway had been literally torn apart in their panicked frenzy. Four hours they had been searching, hoping, praying, and they had yielded poor results. Even though the had dissected the town with a fine toothed comb, they couldn't find a single clue that lead to any answers that concerned their angel in question.

It was almost degrading to them. They were Jordon's parents. They had both swore to keep the boy safe, protecting him from the evils of the world and, yet, at the same time letting the small hatchling stretch and spread his wings wide. Their little boy meant everything to him, and they both (in their own collective way) felt that they had failed him.

Watching the now normal clothed Spirit pace back and forth in front of him, Justin darkly wondered if the man would wear circles- like homemade crop circles- in his beige carpet.

Running a hand through his bright, fiery locks, Spirit sighed heavily. "I don't know what to do... J-Justin, we have to get him back."

"I-I know," Justin choked out. He paused, feeling he had to add to the conversation somehow. He didn't feel like he had much to say that would help, so he finished his part with a soft whispering of, "we have to have faith."

_Faith? _Spirit hung his head, his bangs conveniently hiding the scowl that was forming on his face. _At this point, faith has really abandoned us. _He thought._ Life has dealt us a pretty horrible hand. I'm wondering if I should even _believe_ anymore._

There was an awful, thick silence as Spirit mulled over his own thoughts. A flush colored his cheeks. He was ashamed in what he thought. He knew he couldn't give up faith like that. He knew it was just his anger, fear and frustration doing the talking.

Justin felt tears spring to his now dulled eyes. Biting his quivering bottom lip, he chewed on it. He knew Spirit was probably suffering an internal storm that was battering his very soul. It was raging, broiling with guilt. Spirit had been the last one to see Jordon, and the young Priest knew that the elder Deathscythe probably blamed himself the most for the entire ordeal. It couldn't have been helped, but he knew Spirit wouldn't listen to reasoning like that right now; his guilt was much too strong to allow any sort of peace.

Spirit paused, rage building up within his very core. Some vile and despicable fiend had upped and carried their precious son away. Just like that! Jordon had been kidnapped, and there was no denying it. It was plain as day, and it made Spirit absolutely sick to his stomach.

The elder Deathscythe hissed to himself. Raising his hand, he clenched it into a tight fist and pounded it harshly against the wall. Hung pictures rattled and shook on their hooks, vibrating with the force that rocked the plaster wall they were attached to.

Gulping, Justin glanced up at Spirit. Indeed, his lover was suffering mightily, and he- as a fellow Deathscythe- felt as if he was failing him.

"Spirit..."

The scythe glanced at the boy guillotine, and he sighed. "I know, I know..." He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes cast downwards. He was a bit ashamed, even embarrassed, at his little display, but he couldn't help it. His nerves were shot, and his adrenaline was being kicked into overdrive. He would still be out there searching for his lost little angel, but it had gotten to the point where the encroaching darkness has swept over them, making it hard to tell what anything was. Any clues to his kidnapping would have to wait until they could see. Dawn was still hours away, and it drove Spirit mad in this sick little waiting game. He knew very well that, just like any crime scene, clues usually began to disappear shortly after the foul deed (whatever it was for that particular crime) had been carried out.

Who really knew if they'd find anytime come daybreak? It may be already too late to find anything, and perhaps it would be nothing more than a lost cause...

No! Spirit knew they couldn't think that. They had to keep their morale high. Hell, he knew he'd literally die to get his son back, and he knew Justin probably felt the same way. They were both passionate to find their son.

As Justin sat there, he felt a chill sweep through his body. _What if,_ he thought,_ the worst happens? What if we don't find him? Or, worse, what if we do but it's too late and he's been...?_

The young boy's body stiffened. He felt bile begin to surge up his already tightened throat. His eyes watered from the burning, and he clapped a hand over his mouth. His mind had been assaulted with all sorts of gruesome imagery. Every foul and disastrous scenario flashed in his mind, and he nearly reeled from the impact.

Justin Law had one major fear, and he assumed his mate held onto the same exact nightmare. They didn't really know who had accomplished this nasty little kidnapping, but whoever it was they probably didn't guarantee that Jordon would still be alive by this time. The granules of the day's gritty sand were slipping by, tumbling down their hourglass, and the two of them knew they were running out of time.

Another chime of the hallway clock announced that it was now half past three, and soon another hour would be eliminated before the day finally came. It was going to be a long day, and Spirit knew it. Glancing at his lover, he saw the boy was barely staying awake. Despite being terrified for the safety of their only child, the stress was finally taking a toll on the boy. He watched on as Justin slumped forward, eyelids heavy with the calling of a listless slumber.

Sadly smiling, Spirit walked over to the young boy. He placed a firm, yet surprisingly gentle, hand on Justin's shoulder. Squeezing it slightly, he saw Law look up, his dulled blue eyes misty with his fatigue. "Maybe it's time you rested a bit..."

Shaking his head, Justin meekly protested. As much as he longed to sleep, he was afraid of the nightmares he'd have to endure. Not only that, but he felt that if he would take time for himself, and not focus on getting his son back, then he would have failed Jordon even more than he felt he had now.

"I can't," Justin muttered, his voice a breathy whisper. He hung his head, almost shamefully. "I can't rest... I know I won't be able to sleep. I'm too w-worried about..."

"No, it's okay. We can't do anything at the moment, with how dark it is outside, so we have to wait it out anyway."

"B-But, J-Jordon could be out there, in t-trouble, and if I just stay h-here and sleep the n-night away...!"

Spirit could hear the boy's voice crack with his grief, and his own personal tears were threatening to overspill. Spirit raised his arm, quickly wiping away his renegade tears on the back of his sleeve. He had to be the strong one. If he didn't force up the morale, then Justin would loose hope and all would be lost. He knew the Priest usually held high and true to his faith, morale and mental stamina, but for some reason this event had stunted his ability to stay positive. It confused Spirit, making him wonder just how fragile his lover really was mentally.

Those words of _'have faith' _that Justin had said earlier rang in his head. As much as he didn't want to admit that he was a religious person, he had to cling to something in this desperate time of need. If he didn't remain steadfast and confident, who knows what it might lead to.

Watching the boy, Spirit noticed something in those sad, blue eyes. A flame had been lost. Recently extinguished, Justin almost seemed dead to the world. Something in him had died, and it chilled Spirit to the core. What exactly was it? He couldn't quite tell. Despite Justin Law, the stoic and enigmatic Deathscythe, opening up to him because of their relationship, the young Priest still was as emotionally stunted as ever. Spirit had always wondered what had happened in Justin's past to make him learn to put an emotionless mask on, diving deep within his fantastical realm of music and immersing himself in it in order to escape his reality.

Scowling deeply, Spirit patted the guillotine on the head. "Don't worry. If... If it makes you feel any better, while you catch up on sleep, I'll walk around Shibusen and talk to the late night faculty. Maybe they can help me or, better yet, wake Shinigami-sama so I can talk to him personally."

Guiltily looking up at his lover and protector, Justin meekly nodded. He pouted, ever so slightly, a bit miffed that Spirit felt he needed to burden this all on his own. They were a couple, more or less (even if not bound by marriage), and it wasn't fair for Spirit to endure the wrath of the waves of guilt alone. "O-Okay. If you want to..."

Blinking slowly, Justin blushed slightly as Spirit crouched down to his level on the bed, bringing the boy into a gentle, yet all the while comforting, hug. Justin wrapped his own arms around him, burying his face into the man's shoulder. For a few minutes they stayed like this, trembling in each other's embrace. Why had fate been so cruel? Why did they have to endure this punishment of their only child being kidnapped, only to be possibly murdered?

After what seemed like hours had drug on, Spirit slowly broke free of the hug. With eyes shimmering from a fresh coat of tears, he forced a watery- yet brave- smile. Standing up, he put his finger to Justin's forehead. "Now, sleep, alright? ...I'll be back in a few hours, and then we can start out again."

"W-What about you? Aren't you going to catch up on some sleep...?"

Shrugging, Spirit sighed. "I will later. But first I want you to get some rest. Sleep, and I'll be right back."

Swallowing the hard lump of dread that had formed, Justin nodded. Blankly, he watched as Spirit turned, made his way to the door and exited. The door had made a soft little tap as it shut, and the metal clicking of the lock told him that Spirit had gone to the extra measure of protecting Justin from whatever it was that had snagged their boy.

Silence. It was usually welcomed by Justin, but now it seemed menacing and foreboding. Normally he would have been hearing the constant buzzing of the bass that reverberated from his headphones, but even those were abandoned in his depression. They lay on the nearby table, the Shinigami skulls of the earbuds facing upwards towards the heavens.

_What now? _Justin weakly thought. He heaved a heavy sigh, laying back on the bed. He instantly curled up into a fetal position, desperately clasping his hand over the cross that hung down from his neck. With wide, terrified eyes he stared over at the wall on the opposite side of the room. _What are we going to do? Jordon's out there, and if we don't get him in time..._

A shudder ran through his body, shaking him viciously. He clenched his teeth together, hiccuping, as a sob broke through.

Who had done this? Who was behind this? It scared Justin and Spirit more to think of those questions because they just didn't know_ who_ was behind it all. A myriad of characters marched within the catacombs of their mind, but, in reality, anyone could very well be a suspect. Anyone, and everyone, was a person of interest, and the young Priest felt as if he could trust no one.

"Ow," Justin whispered, softly breathing in. He blinked, looking down at his hand tightly grasping his cross. He gently opened his palm, and he saw that his religious pendant that he had always kept close to him was now speckled with a little blood. He must have squeezed it so tightly that the sharp tip part of it's basic stake shape must have pierced his flesh a little.

His God... why had this happened? He had been asking, over in over in his head, just why it had to have happened to their family. Why did Shinigami-sama, and his Lord,_ let _this happen? Perhaps they didn't know. Perhaps there was a reason behind this. No matter what, his absolute and unwavering faith and loyalty in his studies was already beginning to fade away. There was nothing that could be done and, yet, there _was. _It burned and charred his very soul to think that his Lord, and beloved grim reaper, would allow something as nasty as this to happen in the world.

Overcome with a hurt rage, Justin snarled. He instantly grabbed his necklace by the chain, ripping it off of him with a violent force. Draping his arm over the side of the bed, he watched his necklace pathetically dangle from his grasp. His neck instantly felt bare and naked; he wasn't used to not feeling the constant heaviness of the thick chain or sturdy symbol of his faith and love.

The cross turned around slowly from the momentum of the necklace moving. The small beads of blood dribbled down it's sloping form, and the Shinigami skull resting in it's exact middle now seemed to sneer back at him. It was taunting- no, _mocking_- him. All during his young life he had clung to that symbol of his religion with such a fervor and passion. Now, staring at it, he almost seemed repulsed.

Worse of all, it made him feel deeply ashamed to think that.

Justin allowed himself to let it all out. Howling, his tears gushing out of him, he sobbed. Like a young, small child who had finally been introduced into a foul, brand new world, he let himself dive down into the waters of his depression. He went under, suffocating, begging for breath as his body went numb. Even though his physical body was beginning to relax, being taken over by his extreme tiredness, in his mind his thrashed and writhed. Mentally he screamed out, his shrieks raucous enough to echo throughout the core of his soul.

As his tears flowed, Justin slipped into an uneasy sleep.

**---------------**

There was a pounding in Justin's head. It was dull, and barely noticeable. It would pause every so often, the continue it's demanding pattern up. It sounded hallow and dead.

Moaning, the boy squirmed. Cracking open an eye, he winced at the small shaft of light that was beaming right down, directly in his groggy face. He squinted, turning his lanky frame over so he cold rest on his other side with his back against that cheery ray of sunshine. It must have been morning already. How long had he been asleep?

Grumbling, he forced himself to stay awake. He wanted to go out with Spirit and look for Jordon again. Now that it was daylight they'd be able to find any sort of clue better, and with ease.

There is was, that firm pounding again! Was it real? Or, more or less, was that incessant pounding in his imagination? It was stronger now, more realistic, and he swore it sounded as if it was against some sort of solid surface.

Yawning, the young Priest sat up on the bed. He let his legs dangle over the side, feeling his body shake off the last dregs of his horrible dreams. In his sacred dreams, during his wiles of slumber, he hadn't a moment's peace. Terrible images of what could be happening to Jordon right then and there had flashed through his psyche in big, bold letters. He felt sick and his entire body ached from the lack of a good, quality sleep.

He looked down at his cross, noticing that it's chain had wrapped and wound tightly around his hand. It was so tight that he could see an indentation of the chain, and he swore his hand was numb from it cutting off his blood circulation. _It must have happened when I was sleeping,_ he mused to himself._ I must have been tossing and turning. _Crinkling his nose, a scowl passed over his lips. Shrugging, he lifted it up and put it around his neck. His fingers fumbled over the clasp until he managed to secure it in place. Even though he ripped it off, he was surprised that the clasp was intact.

The three pounding sounds rippled through the air again, and Justin paused. Looking around, he noticed the door. A sick thought came to his head. He had to confirm what he was thinking, for sure.

In a panic he glanced around, studying the room. He jumped a little upon sight of his answer. The man he had seen was a tad disheveled with his clothes wrinkled in places. Spirit was residing in the room _with _Justin. His still form was obviously attacked with fatigue and he was slumped back in a chair, softly snoring away. His head thrown back, his face was strained with worry even in the middle of his throes of sleep.

Feeling himself start to sweat with fear, Justin knew that he was right.

Another pounding made the young boy yelp, and he found himself leaping forward. He comically fell off the bed, his chin smacking hard against the floor and making him bite his tongue. The metallic taste of his blood signaled Justin that he had successfully gnawed on it pretty good.

Getting up, he stumbled over to Spirit. Instantly he reached out, grabbing the man by the shoulder and jostling him in order to wake him up. "Spirit," Justin whispered urgently. "Spirit! T-There's someone at the door!"

"N-Not now, Maka," Spirit mumbled, rolling his head to the side. He opened his mouth, letting out a great yawn. "I want to ride the pony next..."

Blinking in confusion, Justin stared down at Spirit. Sighing, he shook his head. Sometimes he wondered what Spirit was concocting in that brain of his. A lot of the time he was just amusing, and it always had made him laugh.

Another wave of knocking sent nervous goosebumps to scatter up his spine. If he was caught in Spirit's room, early in the morning and with their disheveled appearances, whoever that was on the other side of that door would think the worst. Well, sometimes at moments like this it wasn't too far off from the truth. They _had _had their moments where they had stayed together, intending to make love. Still, this wasn't the time to have their secret exposed. Justin knew well enough that he couldn't answer the door, lest that be a staff member of Shibusen, or worse: Stein-hakase.

Grunting, the boy became serious. He looked around, spying the Bible that he had held earlier yesterday when he had left his place of stay, that church. Grabbing it from the table, he made his way back to Spirit.

Tapping the book on his open palm, he shook his head once again. Raising it, placing it a bit above Spirit's head, he tried to hold back his laughter. He serenely closed his eyes and bowed his head. "Forgive me for this, Spirit."

_**THWUNK!**_

"OH GOD!" Spirit screamed, instantly jerking awake and clapping his hands on the top of his injured head. A few tears of pain sprang to his eyes, and he comically babbled out, "I DIDN'T MEAN TO CHEAT ON HER, MAKA! I S-S-SWEAR!" He flailed his arms, not even fully awake enough to make out his surroundings. "NO MAKA CHOP, PLEASE!"

Justin had taken the Bible and done exactly what he wanted to. By smashing it downward- with the heavy bound spine of the book facing the crown of Spirit's head- he had woken him up. He had to admit the reaction was priceless.

"Well," Justin murmured, his slender hand covering his mouth to stifle his giggles. "Now that you're awake..."

Growling, Spirit rubbed the top of his head. Shooting the boy an annoying glare, he hissed, "what was _that _for? You could have tried _waking_ me first before using violence."

"I did try," he replied dryly. "You're a heavy sleeper, remember?"

"Whatever. What did you do, anyway? 'Priest chop'? 'Religious Bible thwacking' instead of 'Bible thumping'?"

"Spirit," Justin warned. "Mind yourself."

The second Spirit had cried out, the knocking on the door had ceased. Obviously the person was curious as to why there had been a strangled scream from within the room. In fact, from the tone and what Spirit had cried out, the person probably thought it was some domestic spat that was occurring.

"Are you okay?"

Spirit was jolted, and he glanced sharply at the door. That voice had come from behind it! He bolted upright, standing on his wobbly legs. He was still exhausted, and it wasn't a good thing to make quick movements when one was still sleepy.

"J-Just a minute," Spirit choked out. He glanced at Justin sharply. It was a panicky way of saying, '_hide yourself, quickly_'!

As Spirit hobbled over to the door, wiping away the last dregs of his odd menagerie of dreams from his eyes, Justin looked around. He was a little tall for his age, it was true, so finding something to hide behind in this room was proving a tad difficult. Sure, he could have ducked behind the chair Spirit had been sleeping in, or hide behind the curtains that hung heavily from their rods at the windows, but he was too much in a panic to think clearly.

The fear of getting caught rising to it's climax, Justin ran over to the bed and dove under it. Crawling underneath the box frame, he tried to not breath in the dust that had accumulated underneath it. Once or twice his cross got caught and tangled up in the various springs connecting the box frame together, and more than once he found that he had to release himself from it's prickly grasp.

Giving one last, final yawn, Spirit grabbed the doorknob and gently twisted it. Prying open the door, he blearily stared down at his unannounced guest.

The girl looked up at the red haired man. Her green eyes burned brilliantly, and a scowl appeared on her face. Putting her hands on her hips, she sighed.

"Hey, Papa."

* * *

**Chapter by: Wolf**


	5. The Locket

**Sorry for the delayed upload. We've been trying to add a new chapter every sunday. [in case you haven't noticed the pattern] But unfortunately due to the Thanksgiving Holiday and Traveling, we were unable to get it up yesterday. Sorry for the inconvinience. Next week we'll hopefully have the next chapter up on time. Thanks**

**-Wolf and Sporkie**

**

* * *

****Chapter 5: The Locket**

Upon seeing who stood waiting at his door, Spirit flinched, resulting in his posture straightening up. His hands tugged at his clothes, attempting to straightened out the wrinkles. He was trying to make himself look as proper and well kept as he could, even despite the lack of a clean set of clothes and a mirror at that moment. There his young teenage daughter, Maka, was with a smile on her visage what looked to be almost forced on her.

The fiery red haired man leaned in the doorway, unsure if he wanted the child he shared with his ex-wife to come in and see what a mess it was. Desperately he searched for something to say as the young girl stared up at him, at last something came to mind. "You're up awful early, darling."

"It's almost ten, Papa…"

His relaxed position once again shot up right to a standing position. His eyes widened a bit and his mouth dropped open slightly as he stared at his daughter a moment. "O-Oh! I-is it that late already?" He tried to correct himself before she did. She always had a way to make him feel like such a fool, or to at least prove how unobservant he was.

Awkward silence once again filled the atmosphere, Maka remaining completely fine while her father struggled for words. When none came, Maka figured she should speak up before her old man stressed himself out. "Is there someone else in there with you? I thought I heard another voice…"

"Oh! No, no… Of course not! It was probably just the radio," he said, smiling. However that faded when he felt the girl brush past him into his apartment room.

"The radio isn't on…" She mentioned as she flipped on the lights revealing what a pigsty it was.

Papers and documents were strung all over the room. Maps were strewn about on the floor, on tables and on other pieces of furniture as well. The pillows, crumpled and heaped in small piles, had been tossed from the couch from where Spirit had thrown them only hours before when he decided to sleep. The blankets and sheets on the bed were in a frenzy, wrinkled and bundled. As Maka walked further into the room and examined it more carefully she stopped by the end of the bed, looking at it then at her sleep deprived appearing father with disgust. "Alright… Where is she?"

Justin's muscles tensed when the girl stopped by the bed, her feet directly in front of his face. He hoped to Kamio-sama she wouldn't happen to notice him hiding underneath. He also knew that Maka wasn't exactly the person Spirit would want to have see the messy bed then see the boy hiding beneath it, and Justin knew that. Although she did know about the son the two shared, she had kept it a secret. She didn't need to know if the two ever got it on. They hadn't had sexual intercourse the previous night, but based on the condition of the room and bed, it looked that was probably what she would be thinking. He held his breath, praying she would move away. He could hear his heart beating wildly, and he felt like it might explode any second. Oh _Kamio-Sama, _he mentally prayed._ Please let me remain unnoticed, please!_

"W-Who?" Spirit stuttered, and then scolded himself mentally for doing so. Even if he hadn't the girl probably could've guessed he was lying. There was probably not a doubt in his young but intelligent daughter's mind that there was another person in the room.

However to Mr. Albarn's surprise Maka didn't press him anymore on the subject. Instead she sat carefully on the edge of the bed, folding her hands in her lap, before glancing up at her father. "Well, it doesn't matter… The real reason I came was because I wanted to talk."

The red-haired man could've sworn his heart skipped a beat. _Sh__e… wants to talk?_ It was a dream come true. At long last his daughter who had seemed to hate him for so long actually wanted to just talk with him. Then why didn't he feel happy? He had waited for this chance for ages and when he finally had it he was too drained and concerned about his son to even feel the slightest fleet of happiness. "Maka… As much as I'd love to… Now is not a good time," he choked out. It was rending his soul asunder to know that he was turning down his daughter. He knew that it was possibly his only chance to spend time with her when she was willing.

Under the bed, Justin waited quietly. He held his breath, only daring to suck in a little oxygen when at last he was needing one. He tried to remain as silent as possible. The boy bit his lip. He could hear the pain in his lover's voice when last he spoke and it tore at his soul as well.

"It's about Jordon," she simply stated, her brilliant eyes falling to the floor.

This caught the both of them off guard. Both of the men's mouths fell agape. She had news about their missing son. At first nothing but silence filled the room. At last when it was beginning to become almost eerie before she spoke again. "And… I can't exactly say it's _good_ news."

This made the two Deathscythe's hearts sink. A terrified look grew on the Spirit's face as he took a seat next to Maka on the side of the bed. He had so many questions to ask. But now, unlike before when he wanted all the answers right then and there, he was afraid. What if it was the worst? Now he almost didn't want to know at all. To be able to still hope and pray that his little boy was alive and safe somewhere suddenly seemed like a wonderful privilege, even if it was stressful and worrisome.

Now faced with someone with possible answers intimidated the man, what if his son… was dead? No, murdered! And did Maka know by who? Was it someone they knew? And then, if it was the worst of news, how was he going to help Justin through it all? How could he deal with _himself _day after day knowing that if he just would've listened to his son before he left the house, then Jordon would be safe, being rocked in both of his parent's arms? His little voice still rung in his ears, too. _'Do I have to go to schwool Papa? I'm tiwred can I jwust slweep?'_

He also knew that if he would've listened to his young priest partner when he mentioned that perhaps Jordon was a tad too young to be taking lessons just yet, then Jordon would also be still in their loving care. All of it would tear him to pieces, driving him off the edge.

All of it was his fault. All of it. If just given one more chance to be able to see the boy's smiling face again, to tell his son what he meant to him. He'd trade anything for that. Tears started to trickle down the man's cheeks, leaving behind a glistening trail as they slid from his face before dropping and staining his clothes.

Maka gently reached up placing, a hand on his back, rubbing it comfortingly. "P-Perhaps Justin should come out from under the bed before I say what I found…"

Spirit glanced at her quickly with surprise; she really was a clever girl. How did she know?

Despite being surprised and bewildered on how she knew, Justin didn't hesitate. Within seconds the two could hear movement from underneath them as the young man struggled to get out from under the bed. At last he was free and sat beside Spirit, but looked intently toward Ms. Albarn with fear and tear filled eyes. Carefully the red-head reached his hand over to Justin's own. He grasped it lightly as he waited. He could feel the priest shaking.

"I found this…" Maka mentioned as she reached into her pocket pulling out a silver chain. Dangling from the intricate chain was a small silver cross with gold decorative engravings at the end.

Law gasped abruptly, and in an instant grabbed the necklace that hung from the girl's fingers. It was Jordon's cross, one that both the parents had given to him for Christmas that last year. The boy couldn't help but sob as he ran his fingers over the tiny pendent. He then popped open the cross revealing a small family picture of Jordon, Spirit and himself. They all looked so happy and care free, who would've guessed a tragedy like this, could have ever happened to the blissful family? The chain wobbled as Justin's hands trembled afraid of what this might mean. "W-Where did you f-find this?" Justin asked between sniffs.

Maka remained silent for a moment before glancing around the floor. Both men watched her as she got up and appeared to look for something. "Here…" She finally said when she came to a halt in the middle of the room.

The men looked at her oddly. How was that of any help? However, it was at that moment that they noticed she had picked up one of the various maps on the ground and placed it beside the two on the bed, pointing out a road that led to a small town. "Shinigami-Sama had sent Soul and I to search for Giriko. People had been spotting a man similar to his description around that area."

Justin's heart felt like it might stop at this news. His breathing came to a halt. And for a second he almost forgot how to inhale, but finally he managed to. He gulped. What if it was Giriko who had taken little Jordon? He now feared more than ever for his son. Giriko was one more for revenge instead of having the mind to actually think of a plan to kidnap him and set up a trap to lure Justin to him. What if Giriko wanted to abduct and kill his son as revenge? A new set of tears flowed forth, this time the boy buried his face into Spirit's sleeve. Justin was pulled close as Spirit began protectively hugging him.

"Now, now. Have faith, remember?" The older man's voice nearly cracked as he said this. He had to stay strong, but he wasn't sure how much longer he could. If he gave up, so would Justin.

"That's not all," Maka continued, her words paining the two even more, "While we were there I couldn't help but feel massive amounts of Kishin madness… I wanted to check it out, but Soul was too stubborn to let me. So we came back home and when we were on our way back is when I found that alongside the road in the mud."

"Dammit…" Spirit mumbled under his breath. "But… You didn't see Jordon? J-Just found his locket?"

The girl just nodded. Silence again took it's place, weighing heavily on the three as they let themselves be consumed by their own thoughts. Suddenly Spirit jumped to his feet grabbing a maker and drawing an 'x' where his daughter had found the necklace before folding it up and shoving it into a backpack.

"Sp-Spirit?" Justin questioned, his voice laden with uncertainty.

"I don't have time to waste. I got to get to this place and fast. Giriko must have Jordon, and I'm going to go get our son back while teaching that bastard never to mess with a couple of parents like that ever again." He answered harshly as he jammed different items into the bag.

"'_I'm'_?... Spirit are you saying you're going _alone?" _The priest asked.

"Well of course… Giriko wants you, obviously. Or... he's at least doing this to get revenge on you. It would be best if you stayed here… stayed _safe_, while I take care of the jerk who kidnapped our boy." Spirit explained.

"I don't think you heard me correctly," Maka stated. "I said there were sightings of a man that looked _like_ him. We never saw Giriko. Jordon could be in that area but that doesn't mean Giriko was the one that-" She ended her sentence abruptly realizing that she was being ignored at this point.

"You're not leaving without me…" Justin softly demanded.

"You want to bet?" The scythe snapped quickly in reply.

Both of them stared at each other for the longest time. Maka, feeling the uneasiness begin to suffocate the room, cleared her throat out of nervousness. Her papa and Justin were staring each other down, each one mentally daring for the other one to take a move. The situation was turning into a tense stalemate, and neither one wanted to advance their chess pieces to the next space.

Suddenly, the stalemate had ended. The piece was moved, and Spirit chose to be the one who cracked the silence. He jetted for the door, but Justin stayed close behind, preventing Spirit from shutting the door behind him. They stood on either side of it, looking into each other's eyes through the crack with one struggling to keep it open while the other trying to keep it shut.

"Justin, please," Spirit breathlessly begged. "I just want to keep you safe…"

"I've dealt with Giriko before… I think I will know how to handle him, Spirit! Just let me go with you, if anything to just make sure you don't get hurt." Justin glanced back into the room looking for a bag to pack a few things for himself. "It will only take a moment to--"

Suddenly the pressure trying to pull the door shut released causing Justin to slam it against the wall by accident. While he was looking back into the room Spirit had taken it as his chance to make his get away. "Wha-… SPIRIT ALBARN GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!"

The man just ignored the boy's demands and continued down the hall in a hurry, taking a turn and disappearing from sight. Quickly Justin glanced from the hall to the inside of the room, and back again before darting out the door after the older Deathscythe. He left Maka behind by herself in the mess that was Spirit's apartment.

**-----**

A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of deciduous trees that surrounded a gravel road. They over hung the path allowing very few streams of light through the branches to dance across and illuminate the ground below. A single deer stood grazing by the edge of the road, undisturbed and calm until a car was heard approaching. Lifting its head in alarm it then bounded into the thicket and out of sight. The vehicle continued forward and eventually passed upsetting all peace that was once established along the road for a moment before it seemed as though nothing had ever happened, and left nothing more than a settling dust cloud.

Justin Law sat in the driver's seat of this odd looking priestly buggy, with oversized speakers [which were surprisingly not on and blaring some sort of music] looking serious and unaffected. While Spirit Albarn rode in the coffin what was being towed behind it, his arms crossed over his chest, a hint of red on his facial features. This was without a doubt the most embarrassing thing he ever had to ride it. "Are we there yet?" he grumbled over the motor sounding a bit irritated.

"Almost," The priest replied then noting his tone he added, "What's wrong? You seem a bit… frustrated."

"You weren't supposed to come with me…" The red-haired male reminded.

"How did you figure you were going to stop me?" Justin paused a moment, "Plus, you don't have a car… How did you plan to get here on your own?"

Silence. He shifted his weight in the coffin trying to find a more comfortable position. However other than that no reply came. After several minutes Justin sighed, "Spirit… You know I just wanted to make sure you'd be safe…"

"And all I wanted was for you to be safe… And by having you come along you're only being put into danger." Albarn explained before lowering his head and appearing to pout just a bit.

"Well I'm here, and there isn't much you can do about that now. We'll just have to look out for each other." With that the buggy gradually began to slow and they soon found themselves in the midst of a small village.

Justin pulled over into run down gas station where a person came walking out to attend them only to find the bizarre vehicle waiting. He stared a bit surprised a moment looking over the buggy like it was something out of this world. He noticed Spirit in the coffin. A small smile appeared on the gas attendees face, one that suggested he might crack up laughing any second. This resulted in Spirit giving the young man a glare that said, 'laugh, and I'll fucking kill you…' This made the boy instantly straightened up; the smile vanishing from his features. The red-head pointed his thumb to the Justin and the kid ran to the priest's aid, "Twenty dollars worth of diesel, please," Law requested as he handed the man a twenty dollar bill.

Spirit hopped out from the coffin stretching all the way as he walked to the front of Justin's Priest mobile. He found that Justin as well had climbed from the driver's seat and had taken the time to stretch. "I think we should stop for the day," Spirit hesitated to announce.

And for good reason. Justin instantly halted his actions, then let his arms fall to his side. "We can't stop! We're so close… Spirit we're here, we can look and possibly find answers."

"Not in the dark we can't." He leaned against the car and nodded up to the orange hued sky, "We're not going to be able to find anything once it gets dark. We'll just be wasting energy. Even if it does feel like we are wasting time to relax." He paused, "Believe me… I don't want to stop our search anymore than you do, but there is nothing else we can do."

The young death scythe lowered his head, his arms wrapping around himself. The idea of having to wait another day for his son ripped him apart from the inside out. Although Spirit had a point, he was just afraid for his child, his angel. Lost, cold, and hungry; crying for his daddy and papa. The visual was enough to bring tears to the boy's eyes.

"Aww… Justin. Calm down now, everything will be alright," Spirit reached over pulling the younger man into his arms holding him comfortingly and protectively while trying not to break down into tears as well. He could feel his lovers body shake, and he could only imagine what the boy was thinking.

"E-Excuse me…" The gas attendant spoke looking slightly disturbed by the two grown men hugging, "I hate to break this up… but… where is gas tank cap?"

The two broke apart and while wiping away tears Justin pointed it out for him.

Once filled up and ready to go the couple continued down the street until they came to a small hotel. Once getting there keys the made their way to the room, opened the door and plopped down on the couch and stared at the blank television screen. Silence filled the room as both were swimming in a sea of their own thoughts. The sun had already set and the darkness of night bega to creep over and consume the world and all that lived in it.

Quietly Spirit stood walking to the window where he glanced out for a few moments before pulling it shut and turning back to face Justin. "Best get ready for bed."

The boy just nodded then gradually got to his feet and made his way through the small space to the bathroom. Once inside he flipped on the light, and turned the lock. Justin stared at himself in the mirror for the longest of times, examining how drained and worn out he looked. He appeared as though he hadn't slept in days and had been working nonstop. And when he thought about it, to some extent that was exactly what had happened. He sighed as he turned on the water, the hiss of the shower the only sound that filled the room. Steam began to fog the mirror, and taking that as his cue Justin undressed stripping himself of his robes and stepped into the shower to try and allow himself to relax. The water droplets streamed from the shower head, plummeting to the boy's bare skin. But he felt no warmth. He just felt numb. No matter how hot he turned the water on, he was cold to the very core. Only when he noticed his flesh turning a bright red did he turn the temperature of the water back down.

His attempt at clearing his mind and relaxing had failed, and by the time he had stepped out from the shower he realized that a whole hour had passed when he looked at the clock. After drying himself off the boy slipped back into his boxers and tossing his robes over his shoulder while using the towel to conceal his bare chest.

The older man looked up from the map when he heard the shower turn off and the lock of the door click open. Out stepped Justin, creating a small smile to appear on his lips, but it faded when he saw the more vacant than usual looks in his young lovers eyes. His own eyes returned to the map.

Justin noted Spirit snuggled under a blanket on the couch and made his way to the one bed in the room. He let his clothes drop from his shoulders to the ground by the side of the double bed along with the towel. He glanced toward Spirit checking to see if the man was looking at his partially naked self. When realizing he wasn't he pulled back the covers to the bed and slipped carefully under them. He stared at the ceiling in silence then eventually at Mr. Albarn who seemed to be intently studying and marking the map that he had brought with them. It was then when Justin was staring at the older death scythe that he noticed he too was in nothing but his underwear, or at least Law assumed the man had his boxers on. Laying on the floor beside the couch was a jumbled mess of a pair of slacks[which still had the belt looped through it], a shirt, suit jacket, his signature cross tie, and socks.

Quietly Justin just watched the man examine the paper until he folded it up placing it beside his clothes and reached up to turn off the light. However Spirit stopped when he saw that Justin was watching him. "Something wrong?"

Justin's face flushed a cherry red, and he quickly looked away. "I-I was just thinking…"

"About what?" Spirit's tone sounded a bit concerned. Carefully he pushed back the blanket that covered him and he swung his legs around so that he sat on the couch.

"I- um… No, it's fine," Justin said quickly before pulling his own blankets over his shoulders and snuggling down into the bed.

"Something's on your mind, and it's going to keep me up all night if you don't tell me. I don't need anything else to worry about at the moment."

The priest remained quiet for a moment before he sat back up in his bed, however tried his best to avoid making eye contact with the other Death scythe. He raised her hands up so they were in front of his chest and carefully he tapped his pointer fingers together out of nervousness."I-… I was j-just curious as to… why… why you don't sleep in the same bed as me…?"

Spirit's eyes widened slightly, his features taken on a red hue as well. "I-It's not because I don't want to.. if that's what you're thinking. I… I just never really thought you'd want to. I figured... our… 'special occasion' nights were the only times you would allow." He paused, "I also thought it was supposed to be somewhat of a secret, sooo… I never do because if anyone ever came in they'd see us in the same bed and find out."

"I-I don't mind…" By this point the boy was a brighter red than ever before. What was he doing talking like this while his son was missing? Perhaps it was because he needed the comfort… A reminder that there was someone that loved him and if _he _was missing there was someone who would come for him as well.

Smiling, the elder Death scythe flipped off the light by the couch and walked toward the opposite side of the bed that Justin laid on. He threw back the covers from that side and crawled under the blankets, laying down his head on the pillow so that he looked directly into Justin's eyes. "Is this better?" He whispered.

A small smile formed on Justin's mouth and he just nodded. Laying there for a few minutes longer he examined and memorized every detail of the older man's features. "Spirit…"

"Yes, Justin-kun?"

"I-…" He paused allowing the feeling in his chest to calm, "I love you…"

"I love you too Justin. More than you could ever imagine…" He pulled the covers up over his body, making sure not to bump into and touch Justin. "We'll find Jordon" He grunted as he attempted to find a comfortable position. "We'll find him… And he'll be with you again… even if It's the last thing I do… You have my word."

The priest almost didn't like the sound of that. '_Is… He implying he'd be willing to give his life to get Jordon and I together again?'_ "Spirit… I-"

The man pressed a finger against the boy's lips, "Shh… You need your sleep…" Reaching up with the other hand he flipped off the light above them. Darkness and silence consumed the room.

Later that night Spirit woke to the tossing and turning of his young lover. Half asleep he tiredly watched the boy through half closed eyelids. Justin's whimpers and cries was what came next, and hearing this finally did the trick to wake him completely. The sound of the young man struggling against his nightmares tore his heart in two. He'd give anything to prevent the boy from the suffering and pain he was experiencing.

"Jo-Jordon…. Daddy's coming… hang on." He mumbled in his sleep.

Justin's words brought tears to the man's eyes, he bit his lip trying to hold back any sobs or loud outburst of tears. "We'll find him, Justin…" He whispered, "But I need you to hang on too…"

Carefully Spirit wrapped his arms securing around his partner, holding him close and tight. He laid there for a few hours listening to Justin cry, while letting thoughts, situations, and outcomes play over in his mind. The pain he felt eventually won over and his tears flowed forth resulting in him crying himself to sleep. Thank God the other father of his son wasn't awake to witness his break down.

**

* * *

****Chapter by: Sporkie**


	6. Bittersweet Morning Rays

**Chapter 6: Bittersweet morning rays**

The tinkling melody of the birds, chirping outside of the windows, warbled. They alighted, their wings beating soundlessly against the brisk morning air. They scattered to the wind like living, breathing, colorful leaves. The sun, panting as it crept into the sky, beamed right into the small little room. A few shafts of the delicious, warm beams peppered the sleeping, still forms occupying the bed.

The gentle, warming sensation of the sun's rays kissed Spirit's face. His nose tickled, and he grunted, trying to itch it with his imaginary powers instead of waking up and begrudgingly doing it himself. Wrinkling his nose, scrunching up his face, he repressed a rather violent yawn. He rolled over on his back.

The elder Deathscythe finally gave in. He let out a disgruntled moan, blearily opening his eyes. His vision was still misty with his foggy tendrils of his uneasy, unfulfilled sleep. He still managed, however, to make out the vague (if not blurry) shapes residing in the room. There was that torn sofa, that old, rickety chair and that shambling table that had one leg that wobbled precariously when anything was placed on it.

Oh, of course. He was still in that small, but homey, hotel room with Justin.

_Speaking of the boy_, Spirit groggily thought to himself as he rubbed his eye free of gunk. He glanced over at his love and current bedmate. Sure enough, the boy was silently slumbering. He was safely nestled beneath the thin covers. Sometime during the previous night, Justin must have curled up in his current position. He had unknowingly snuggled closer to the red haired scythe, and had laid his head on the man's broad chest.

For the first time in a few days, Spirit noticed, Law was looking like he was finally at a serene sort of peace.

The last few days of their horrendous ordeal had begun taking it's toll on each other. They had become jumpy (even at the slightest of noises), and they had become restless and fearful during those long, cold nights. They hadn't begun to bicker and fight with one another yet and for that Spirit was thankful. Most couples would have cracked under this sort of pressure, but so far they were biting the bullet and working together to get their precious child back.

Spirit reached his arms above his head, letting his body stretch. He could feel his joints loosen up and his muscles bind and tighten under his skin, and he could already feel himself limbering up. He flexed his fingers, and he instantly regretted it. He had heard his bones crack a little from stiffness. Huffing, he lowered arms, letting one hug close to his side whilst the other one wrapped around Justin's thin shoulders. Spirit was getting older, but he wasn't _that _old yet!

For a while Spirit laid there, his breathing hushed and stilled. He strained his ears, listening in on the rather cheery noises that the entire world around him seemed to be content making. From the trilling morning finches to the steady throb of people moving about in the rooms around him, it seemed to Spirit as if the world and _everything _in it was blissfully unaware that grim situations- such as the one he and his lover was experiencing- was unfurling beneath their very noses. The world seemed happy, bubbly and too preoccupied to even notice the two men's shared grief.

Disgusted with the happiness that seemed to sugarcoat everything within thirty miles of where they were laying in bed, Spirit let his mind drift back to Jordon. He had to wonder what he was doing, right at that very moment. Where was he? To what extent was his well being? Was he in any sort of grave danger? Or... could it be something much worse that befell the fate of his angel?

Inhaling sharply, trying not to wake Law up, the elder man mentally chided himself. He couldn't think of the worse. What good what that do? It would only fuel his extreme paranoia right now, and the last thing he wanted was a mental break down.

_"I-I know,"_ warbled a weak voice in the back of Spirit's head. _"We have to have faith..."_

_That's right,_ Spirit mused to himself._ I have to have faith, like Justin had said a few nights ago. I can't very well give up on every last hope." _Jordon, Albarn, small and young, was still quite a strong little fellow. He had managed to put up with those nasty little rumors of his parents that the kids he knew had begun spreading. The small child's willpower, mental defenses and tenderheartedness was incredible for one of his sprightly age.

Despite mentally trying to build up a blockade around his troubling thoughts, he couldn't quite help that he was always returning to the same subject. Cutting it to the quick, he just wanted Justin and his son back. He'd do anything to accomplish his new found life mission, even if it meant his sudden and unwanted demise.

Hearing a muffled groan, a slightly flustered and worried Spirit snapped out of his pool of dismal thoughts. He glanced down at the boy, snuggled up next to him. Watching Law peacefully sleep, Spirit wanted to desperately see life and personality come back to those already unnerving blue eyes of his lover. Ever since Jordon had been kidnapped, the Guillotine weapon was returning back to his blank, emotionless state. Justin was falling away from him, and his life, and Spirit could see if every single time the young priest looked at him. It was a slow downward shift for the worse, but it was quite obvious that the boy was losing his previous love and lust for life.

Seeing Justin like this reminded Spirit of the old days, back when he first had met the newly christened Deathscythe. How things had changed...

Spirit closed his eyes and felt his mind drift away. It was receding, moving away from that comely hotel. It was shirking away from the world, moving away from his tormented fears... it was just _moving on_, drifting back into a faraway memory that seemed to glisten in the back of Spirit's mind. He had almost forgotten about that day he had first met the boy but, now, laying beside the very boy who had become his lover and the parent of his child, he could see the scene vividly play back to him behind his closed eyes.

* * *

**Chapter by: Wolf**


	7. Clarifying first steps

**Chapter 7: Clarifying first steps**

It had been a warm day, four years ago. On the cusp of summer, the weather in Death City, Nevada, was beginning to get a little steamy early on in the season (not that Nevada was ever nice and cool). The day had been beautiful, the sky a pristine cerulean that seemed to stretch on forever. Not even a cloud obscured the sky or it's panting, heaving sun.

That day had been gorgeous, indeed, but it had differently been a day for weird things to happen.

Spirit Albarn, the loyal Deathscythe, was confused. Well, to be honest, he was more _shocked_ than confused. What stood before him was a boy. Not only a boy, but a thirteen year old boy who was standing before him with the grandiose title of "Deathscythe."

He had to do a fact check in his mind. Deathscythes had to collect and consume ninety-nine Kishin infected egg souls, plus one dangerous witch soul to make a whole grand total of hundred. Doing this task was not an easy thing to do, even for an adult. The red-headed Deathscythe stuck a finger in his ear, attempting to clean out all of his earwax. Shinigami-sama couldn't have possibly said...?

"So, Spirit-kun," Shinigami-sama shrilled in a high pitched, warbling voice as he had hopped over, standing behind the small and fragile looking young child. He placed his large white hands on the boy's shoulders, completely covering them up and making the boy appear even smaller than he already was. "This is our new Deathscythe~! His name is Justin Law~!"

Spirit blinked. He slowly raised a shaking hand and rubbed the back of his neck. The boy, named Justin, was staring up at him with the strangest expression on his face. It was blank, completely devoid of emotion. His startling blue eyes were deep and wiped of all expression. He was like a robot, a non existing being slapped inside of a living, breathing body.

The boy himself was a little strange looking. Beside his blank persona, the boy had a messy crop of hair as golden as sun drenched wheat. His face was still somewhat impish, like he had yet to mature a little more physically. He was a little tall for his age but, at the same time, he was still short compared to the towering Deathscythe and the immense Death God. Dressed in the normal attire Shibusen allowed (a slightly baggy sweater, khaki slacks and scuffed up sneakers), his normal appearance was completely destroyed by the fact that he had a strange pair of earphones jammed in each ear. The thin cords trailing down from the devices drooped down and crept into the boy's pocket where the iPod was safely nestled. Spirit winced-- he could hear the boy's pounding music even from where he was standing, a few feet away.

Spirit had to wonder why the boy chose to listen to his music so loudly? Did he want a straightforward ticket to becoming deaf before the age of twenty? He sighed, shaking his head. Over all, he was amazed that Shinigami-sama would allow the boy to wear them in his presence since he was a student of his school. _Then again, _he thought, _if he really is a Deathscythe now, he'd get a lot of privileges. Perhaps this was one of them?_

There was a long lapse of silence, and it hung in the air like a raincloud ready to give birth to a monsoon. Spirit, trying to be a good comrade to a new inductee (no matter how insane it seemed that a boy his age could achieve such a high status), smiled warmly. "Welcome, Justin, to the league of Deathscythes."

"Thank you," Justin said, not evening flinching a hair. He never smiled, let alone blinked. His voice was soft, gentle and quite soothing, and it dripped off of his tongue like honey. "I'm happy to have made it this far."

Grinning a little wider, Spirit felt more at ease. It seemed like the kid wasn't some stoned buzzer, drugged needle pusher, psychotic dust sniffer or anything else of that sort. After all, with that sort of placid gaze the boy had, no one could quite tell. "Well, Justin-kun," he softly murmured as he bent over, lowering himself more towards the boy's height. "Tell me," he said, adapting a lilting tone that he had always used for kids. "Where's your Meister? Didn't he come with you today to receive the same honor?"

"I don't have one," Justin replied rather quickly. He blinked once, staring up at the man quizzically. Why was this man treating him like such a child? He knew he was mature for his age, and he felt a little miffed to be treated like some baby.

Spirit stared at the boy, an eyebrow rising towards the heaven. Was this boy joking with him? No one had been able to achieve the legendary Deathscythe title without a Meister. If he did, it would not only be a first but, at his age, an utmost miracle. What was this kid, some manic genius prodigy with way too many idiosyncrasies to even count?

"I-I'm sorry," Spirit said, nervously chuckling. "What was that again-?"

Clucking his tongue in his nonexistent mouth, Shinigami-sama tilted his head to the side. "Ahhh, well, Justin-kun is a special case, Spirit-kun. It seems that there was never a Meister who could connect with his soul wavelength, so he ended up fighting on his own."

Fighting on his own?! Standing back up straight, Spirit crosses his arms over his chest. He had heard of some weapons being able to fight on their own- for a short period of time, that is- if their Meister was away. However, did this boy truly master the technique to where he could fight on his own? He killed ninety-nine Kishin egg souls on his own? He ensnared a witch's soul with his own bare hands? There wasn't a way. It couldn't be true!

He ran his hands through his bright red locks. Spirit was unabashedly confused. He glanced back at his God, and he saw the blackened being nod. He returned his gaze back down towards the boy and he could sense a strong, immense soul wavelength from this child, but he couldn't quite tell how strongly it throbbed and pulsated with energy.

"Justin-kun," Spirit softly said. "I would like to know- what weapon are you?"

"A guillotine," the boy replied back.

"A-Are you serious?!" Spirit yelped. The image of that ghastly, horrible and bestial device of execution wavered in the back of his mind. He was a demon weapon, for sure, but how could anyone who was a guillotine operate on their own. "I don't think that's-"

"I'm a guillotine," Justin drawled back, wasting his breath in repeating those same exact words. He knew this man wouldn't take his words as proof. A tired, disheartened and weak grin crept along his face. This adult didn't believe him, and neither did anyone else. It had been a sad trend all of his life. The reason why no one had ever chosen him as a weapon was because not only could they not connect with his strong wavelength, but no one could believe in whatever he said of his abilities. They had mocked him, calling him a liar, saying that no one of his age could possibly take down a ring of ten enemies on his own.

Justin not only could do that, but he had indeed accomplished such things whenever he had been cornered.

Lowering his head a bit, Law raised his small little arm. There was a vicious flash of light. With the _schhhlick_ of sharpened, grazed metal, Justin had manifested a cruel looking blade that stuck out of his arm.

Spirit's eyes widened. His own image, visage warped from the gleaming shimmering side of the metal, gaped back at him with a look of sheer shock. He had seen other Deathscythes become their forms, and it had become a sort of second nature to witness it. However, something in this boy startled him. The second that blade appeared, Mr. Albarn knew there was something quite eccentric about the young boy.

"E-Excuse me for a moment," Spirit said, motioning over to Shinigami-sama.

The Death God sighed, but he obeyed his Deathscythe's orders. He followed the redhead until they stood off to the side. Raising a thick finger he laid it on his skull mask cheek. He let out a disgusted sort of sigh, rolling his words when he said, "so, you still don't believe him, mwyes~?"

"W-Well," Spirit said, trying to hide the embarrassed blush. "Listen, you know what a guillotine is like. In order to operate it, you need one or two people to pull down on the cord to release the function for the blade to fall down."

"Yes," Shinigami-sama tensely replied. "I know of that."

"That boy is the weapon. He'd need a Meister to pull that off!" Raising his hands up in a sort of shielding gesture, he spread his fingers apart. "To my knowledge, once he turns into his weapon completely, even he can't pull that off. The same goes to me when I transform. I can't be used-"

"-unless someone picks you up and wields you." The Grim Reaper raised one of his giant hands, putting it over his mask to stifle a yawn. "Yes, yes, I'm well aware of that. However, despite his current handicap not having a Meister, Justin-kun has managed to work past that hump and has found a way to do everything on his own~!"

"Then how-?" Spirit, still confused and left with his questions unanswered, leaned to the side so he could look past the spiky black bulk of his God. He wanted to see what the child was doing.

Justin had been innocently standing there, quietly waiting for when the next assault of disbelief that would be thrown upon him. He had made the blade that had been previously protruding from his arm to sink back into his flesh and disappear within his body. There wasn't a need for it anymore. If the older Deathscythe didn't believe him at this point, then was there really any benefit to have even something as physical as that for proof?

Spirit blinked as he saw the boy look up towards the ceiling. Justin proceeded to just stare upwards, eyes his roaming over the virtual mid afternoon sky that forever swirled within that room. The look in those blank eyes... there was something hidden beyond them. It was a little tragic, and he wondered why the boy decided to use a mask to hide from the world.

However, after that particular day of their infamous first meeting, Spirit rarely got to get a glimpse of Justin to even see if he had changed at all. As the years passed, and the various missions roared on, the Deathscythe had learned that the young guillotine had been given the title to oversee Europe and to protect it, body and soul.

Spirit Albarn had all but forgotten about Justin. Even when he did see him from time to time, the meetings were so brief. Sure, the hapless boy did change. He had grown, finally reaching a suitable height. His face still retained that round, almost pudgy but boyish look. As skinny as ever, he still looked incredibly frail and weak.

By the next time Spirit would truly spend more time with the boy, the older Deathscythe was shocked. Justin had done a complete makeover. Back then, currently at the age of sixteen, the lanky young man had styled his hair in a version of a monk's tonsure cut, leaving his locks messy and flyaway. His baggy uniform thrown away, he had chosen a completely different path. He had donned some rather form fitting (or, at least, in his opinion) robes, and had more or less become a servant of the Lord and a man of the holy cloth.

Spirit, being American, wasn't quite used to the Priestly garb that those over in Europe wore. He had known that Justin had come over originally from Europe--England perhaps? His voice was underlaid with a soft melting sort of accent, but Spirit couldn't quite tell from where it was from or what exactly it was. It was quite obvious that Spirit was suffering from culture shock the first time he saw Justin dressed in a skull cap, a crisp white mantle and a heavy black and gray robe. Everything about him stood out, making him seem more like a wayward flower in a sea of weeds.

Finally, around the time Justin Law had turned the ripe old age of seventeen, Spirit noticed he was seeing the boy a lot more. Since he was much older than his inducted age when he was thirteen, he was allowed to receive a few more missions from his beloved God.

The older Justin seemed to have not changed as much, compared to his thirteen-year-old counterpart.

One evening stood out in Spirit's mind. To him... it had been that one definitive moment that the hands of fate slammed down upon his shambling book of events that lead to that final path he'd take in his life.

The ill wind of a cooling fall brushed down the twisting and winding streets of Death City, Nevada. The gust wound around the buildings and tumbled up the steps of the Shibusen Academy school. There, descending the grandiose stairway leading up from the street to the large, expansive building was the entire team of Deathscythes.

They had been called to a meeting. Nothing more, nothing less. It had been a rather boring one and even the intelligent and precise Yumi couldn't help stifling a warbling yawn behind her slender hand.

Spirit, shoving his hands in his pockets, watched as the three- Yumi, Marie and Justin- began to descend and part their separate ways. Since he was stationed within Death City as the overseer of America, he had to stay. Watching Marie laugh, patting Yumi on the back... a sudden pang hit his heart. Stein-hakase, his current Meister, had been off on a short mission. Because of this, Spirit had been alone.

He hadn't had anyone to talk to. He wanted a friend, right then and there, to support him. The day before Maka had cornered him outside of another brothel. He had begged her not to scream, weakly assuring her that he wasn't there to dive into the depths of some wily female in constant heat. She hadn't believed him and, in a flourish of anger, she had stormed away, leaving the redhead alone.

_Alone... I'm always alone these days. _He sighed, watching the backs of the departing Deathscythes. _I want someone to talk to. Someone, anyone... I don't care who it was. I need someone dearly right now. _He lifted his head up a bit. A thought came to his mind.

"Hey, guys," Spirit said, taking a step to the edge of the top stair. He raised his hand, waving it, catching the attention of all three Deathscythe comrades of his. They turned, gazing up at him with curious stares. "Does anyone want to grab a beer or two with me at a bar? You know..." He lowered his gaze, a blush forming. He tugged nervously at his tie. "I just wanted to share some stories with everyone and, perhaps, catch up with how everyone's doing."

There was a moment pause as the two females- Marie the demon tonfa and Yumi the demon crossbow- nervously glanced at one another. Spirit Albarn had had the reputation of being quite the womanizer and skirt lifter, not chaser. Once blasted to heck and back with alcohol, the possibilities of his awakened perverted self was endless.

Much to Spirit's dismay none agreed to go with him, each and every single one of the Deathscythes had some sort of excuse. However while Marie and Yumi's reasons seemed somewhat rushed to reply, Justin's was calm and giving a truthful feel about it. 'I'd love too, Senpai, but I'm still a minor.'

The boy's words replayed in his head. _Did he really want to?_ The red-haired man asked himself mentally, _Or did he just say 'he'd love to' not to let me down so hard. I know the girls were lying when they said they had plans, so it makes me wonder… Was Justin telling the truth, or did he not want to hurt this old geezer's feelings?_

At last he decided it was best not to ponder on it, after all either way it was with the kindest intentions, right? As he walked along the side of the road, his hands placed in his pockets where they could usually found, his mind began to wonder off about friends. He let himself be consumed in thought over this subject, until finally it came down to one big question. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, his gaze falling to the ground. '_Do I… even have any?_'

Sure there was Stein, but it was a bit difficult to tell what was going on with the stitched up man. Spirit also wondered if Stein just liked having him around for entertainment. After all he had told him so many times what an idiot he was. And then there were always those dissections, perhaps Stein was only getting closer now because he wanted his test subject back. Then he had Shinigami-sama, but, sometimes it was difficult to be friends with someone who was also your boss. Lately due to his divorce, the Death God seemed to be getting on his last nerves with the weapon. He had comforted him at first, but now only gave him a direct noggin Shini-chop whenever he cried out for his ex-wife and daughter, Maka…

Maka, He loved her so much. And yet, she seemed to hold no place for him in her heart now-a-days. Not even his own family seemed to care about him. '_No family... No friends_…'

Violently the man shook his head before starting to walk again. He shouldn't be thinking about this. He was an adult, not some angst teenager who thought the world was against him. But… sometimes he couldn't help but wonder… "No, get a hold of yourself. People care… they do."

'_Name one..'_ he demanded from himself mentally.

Not one name came to mind.

The memory of the rest of that evening was foggy but the highlights he was still able to remember with ease. He was on his way home, stumbling along the side of the road after spending the evening at the bar. The man had been drinking away while trying to forget his ex and daughter, the roots from which his depression and loneliness came from. He loved them both so much but at the same time they made the red-haired man feel like a miserable failure. Spirit had finally gone off the deep end, depression consumed his life and the only way out was alcohol, or anything else that might numb the mental pain he felt. It was an unhealthy habit indeed, but at least it made his days fly by quickly.

The next thing he knew he was laying in the middle of the road, cuts and scrapes covering his hands and arms. When the Deathscythe glanced up through squinted eyes he saw a light, and a sense of relief washed over him. Perhaps now his pain would be lost forever and he could live in peace. However something wasn't right, along with this light there was a rumble coming from the same direction, as well as it getting louder. It was then he realized these weren't the gates of heaven but the headlights of a fast approaching car. Bracing himself for one last excruciating impact before his long awaited death the man closed his eyes tight, as a final prayer was muttered from his lips. Suddenly the screech of skidding tires rung through his ears before the vehicle came to a halt the engine rumbling awfully close to where Spirit lay.

When the red-head peaked up with one eye he saw that a figure had hopped from the driver's seat and was rushing to his aid with what seemed like concern of his condition. '_Someone is concerned? They're concerned about me?'_ he thought with a fuzzy mind, _'they could've ran me over, ended my misery, but the stopped to help…'_

"Spirit-Senpai!" A young man's panicked voice cried, "Wh-… What happened!? Are you alright? … For the love of Kamio-sama, please, tell me you are alright!"

It was his fellow Deathscythe, Justin Law. "Justin…?" Spirit slurred barely feeling conscious, "W-Why isya owut so latee…?"

"That's not important," Justin replied now seeming a bit calmer once hearing his voice as he helped the older man to his feet. He allowed Spirit to use him as something to lean against and keep him up right. "Do you need me to drive you home?"

A snockered smile curled over the man's face, new thoughts filling his mind. Perhaps he was desperate, or perhaps it was the alcohol, whatever it was Spirit suddenly needed something from the under aged priest. He had been alone for far too long now, and his intoxicated mind wasn't helping him think all too clearly. "Thats would be vwery hewlpful"

This new smile that appeared on the elder man's face worried the boy, and it showed in his expression. His offer now created regret to build within him; however he didn't hesitate to continue to help his Senpai, after all what could possibly go wrong?

* * *

**Chapter by: Wolf and Sporkie**


	8. Tumbling Flashbacks

**** Note: **

**Before you begin reading. This chapter contains rather hardcore Yaoi. If you do not like, or don't think you can handle. I suggest you don't read it. If you still want to read some of it to get an idea of what it going on I will put a line[like the one below this note] seperating the text that contains the lemon yaoi.**

**This chapter is pretty much why we had to rate the whole thing Mature.... and for certain reasons down the road as it begins to get a little gorey.**

**Anyway. Enjoy.**

**Oh! and Merry Christmas Everyone~!**

**

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****Chapter 8: Tumbling Flashbacks**

"Now, Senpai, all you have to do is just sit here and relax. Sleep it off and in the morning you'll be as good as new!"

Justin stood up straight. His words had been soft and soothing with almost a lilting edge to it, and it had done its trick to calm the redhead down from his snockered bout of hysterical laughter. He had been tucking a blanket around Spirit as the man sat up, still blitzed and leaning to the side, on his bed. The boy priest held a deep respect for this man and, partly, that was the reason why he helped him get home.

Justin had driven the man back to his house. It had been hard trying to decipher the strange slurring coming from the scythe, but he managed to glean directions out of his drunken rant, just enough to get to his apartment. It took him a while, coaxing him into the house and nearly dragging him up the stairs to his bedroom, but Justin had managed to get the weapon safely into his home.

Now his soul goal was to keep the man in a relaxed state. He had thrown the blanket around the man, hoping that perhaps he'd get sleepy enough to drift off into a sleep. However this proved difficult. The drunk Deathscythe was still wide awake, bursting with intoxicated energy.

"Just relax," Justin repeated, "and sleep for the rest of the night."

Shrugging most of the blanket off of him, Spirit muttered a protest. He felt too hot, too _tight_, to even want that suffocating cover draped around him. All Spirit wanted to do was watch Justin's movements. They were graceful and lithe, like a pristine jaguar in his form fitting clerical robes.

Turning his head slightly, Justin glanced about. He had to admit that Spirit's apartment was rather nice. It was charming, yet it still kept a masculine eloquence about it. It was immaculate save for a few stray papers that had been knocked asunder by the stumbling drunkard of a scythe. In all honesty, Justin originally wouldn't have been surprised if he had seen pinups of scantily clad women in nearly nonexistent bikinis or thongs. He had heard to rumors of the perverted man, but he had never dared to _ever _repeat anything of what he had heard in fear of it causing any sort of commotion. Seeing this house, and Spirit's room, he had to admit it was nice and even free of any sexual imagery.

Catching himself in his thoughts, Law mentally admonished himself. What was he doing, thinking of his dear God's weapon like that? It was slander on the weapon's good name! He felt ashamed for even thinking wrong towards Spirit and, in a way of atoning, he tapped the heavy cross pendant that hung around his neck. He was sending out silent prayer for forgiveness in his mind.

Spirit became mesmerized. While Justin had been busy studying the Deathscythe's room, said Deathscythe was studying the boy in return. _He's so girly, _he thought with a fuzzy mind. _He has the shape... and hips... of a woman. How can that be possible? _Pushing down the blanket until it laid over his lap limply, the man leaned forward ever so slightly until he was on the edge of his bed. He noticed that the robes clung close to the boy's body, cinching just tight enough in the hips to give Justin a slender, sloping shape.

Mr. Albarn's eyes widened in a pleasant shock as Justin took a step, bending over to pick up some of the papers that had been knocked over. The perverted man felt his jaw drop, and a drunken hiccup escaped him. Leaning a little to the side, he shifted positions so he'd get a nice view of Justin's ass.

_He has_ _to be a chick,_ Spirit thought sloppily. _His ass is too petite for a guy. It's so shapely... finely sculpted. He's got to be some hot chick in male drag. Maybe he's secretly some hooker dressed up for the priest fetish or something. I bet his mantle is hiding back some really nice rack or something._

Dropping the papers on a nearby dresser, Justin placed his hand on the stack. Turning back to Spirit, he was confused as to why the man was now leaning heavily to one side. _I have to remember,_ he whispered to himself in his mind. _Mr. Albarn is drunk. He's probably just losing his balance, that's all. It's best if I leave him alone._

"Senpai," Justin said, his voice as soft as the wind. "I'm going to leave you now so you can rest up. If you need me, you can contact me at the Church on the western outskirts of town. That's where I'm staying while Shinigami-sama has called me here to Death City for business."

"Mmm'kaysh," Spirit said, blinking twice. All thoughts of Justin being a girl faded away once he looked at the boy's face. _No, _he thought. _He is just a really freaking effeminate guy._ His vision was still a bit fuzzy, but he wasn't worried about that. What he _was _worried about was relieving that _tightness_ he felt. He still had that hungered desire to obtain something from the innocent priest. With each passing second that need was growing even more intense.

Nodding, Spirit felt himself clutch tightly at the sheets beneath him. His vision was narrowing in on Justin, and he couldn't control the sexual nature inside of him. His inner beast was hungry and only Justin could sustain his need for nourishment.

His strange blue eyes softening with kindness, Justin smiled. He knew the man, either way, would be fine. He shouldn't worry. Spirit was a divine weapon of his God! He obviously had to be strong inside.

Turning silently on his heel, the priest made his way across the room. Heading towards the exit door, he had a million things on his mind. Why had Spirit been lying in the middle of the street, during those ungodly hours, in the first place? Why had he been covered in cuts? More importantly, why did he get so skunk drunk as to easily pass out like that? Was he trying to kill himself with the booze?

His mind drifted back to earlier that day when Spirit had asked if anyone wanted to join him. Quickly Justin stopped in his tracks. He reached out, laying his hand flat against the door frame.

Was that a plea for help that Spirit had shown them all? Law gulped, trying to swallow his guilt. What if Justin had originally agreed to going with him? Sure, he was a minor, but only in _America._ Back in his homeland he was of the age to drink. He could have easily joined the man, though not there to imbibe anything (he hated the taste of any sort of alcohol anyway). While there Justin could have been giving him some sort of morale. If those were self inflicted wounds, and no one had helped him...

The thought sickened the boy. Why wouldn't anyone reach out to a fellow man in need?! Weren't people taught anymore to help thy fellow kin of mankind, no matter what race, gender _or_ situation? Wasn't there any kindness left in this world?

Surely someone must have seen the poor man suffering, alone, in that bar!

His train of thought, however, was quickly shattered when Justin felt a strong squeezing pressure around his midsection. Flicking his odd gaze downwards, he saw a pair of two strong arms had begun wrapping themselves around his stomach in a protective gesture.

"S....Senpai?"

Spirit was leaning into the boy heavily, most of his weight bearing down on the boy's back. In response to the sudden weight Justin felt his knees buckle for a fraction of a second. However, bracing himself, he was ready to support Spirit if he happened to pass out on him.

The stench of alcohol was apparent. Spirit was still blitzed half out of his brains _and _he was now using Justin as some strange teddy bear. _This situation just can't get any better,_ Justin thought dryly and sarcastically.

Pushing the thought aside that this was the beginning of something bad, the boy managed to reach down and pat Spirit's arm as it wrapped around him. Out of sheer nervousness he chuckled a little. "N—Now, now... you should really get some sleep, you know. You're only going to make your hangover worse in the morning if you prolong--"

"I dun wanna schleep," Spirit purred drunkenly.

Blinking in confusion, Justin tried to shrug Spirit off of him. However, the more he tried to get Spirit to let go, the more he found that the drunken man's squeeze on him was tightening. It was as if Justin was caught in some snare trap and the more he moved, the more the hapless boy was drug back into it.

Law's heart was starting to thud painfully against his ribs. He was feeling a familiar sort of primal fear. He had been in this state before. Giriko was a known drinker, it was true. He had had battles against the man, both intending to kill each other. There were some moments, though, that Justin knew Giriko was fighting intoxicated. He could always tell. He could always_ feel_ it.

Sometimes, when Giriko had him pinned against a tree or cornered in some dingy, grungy alleyway, Justin could feel that the heretic wanted to sin further by ripping his virginity and innocence from him.

It was true that he had always managed to escape. He had always overpowered the man while the chainsaw was too busy drowning more and more in his alcoholic escape. In this case, with Spirit in place of Giriko Sou, the boy found he _couldn't _overpower him. He couldn't get away. He just couldn't escape what looked like his oncoming fate.

Reaching out with both hands, Justin grabbed the edge of the door. He clung to it, digging his nails into the wood and attempting to pull himself forward and out of Spirit's vice like grasp. His efforts were in vain, though. With a yelp he felt himself reeled back. Spirit was literally taking steps backwards, dragging Justin with him all the while putting distance between the boy and his blessed escape route.

Justin reached out once more, but the door was getting farther and farther away as he was dragged back in Spirit's arms. It was if he was being pulled back down into some sea and Spirit was the water nymph taking over and controlling him. He was going back to being smothered in the man's embrace.

"S---Senpai---!"

Justin Law noticed they were in the center of the room now, right in front of the bed. He cried out. He had to admit he was nothing short of terrified. This wasn't exactly what he had hoped for. He felt Spirit slowly run his hands over the boy's robes, gently sliding them down over his slightly curving hips. Gulping, he shut his eyes tight, whimpering. He was trembling in the man's hold.

"I dun wanna schleep," Spirit repeated, his tongue rolling out his sluggish, slurring words. He was attempting to sound seductive and lust worthy. He raised a hand, inching it up Justin's chest as if trying to tickle the boy despite the covering of the heavy clothing. "I wanna do somethin' else... wid _yew_, Jushtin."

Justin's mouth went dry. He tried not to show his terror, but it wasn't working too well. His knees were clattering against each other. Over and over in his head he prayed pleas for protection and safety from his Lord as well as from his beloved Kamio-sama.

Spirit licked his lips wolfishly. Resting his chin on the boy's shaking shoulder, he hungrily glanced down at Law's chest. Sneaking his hand up from the boy's hip, he slowly inched it upwards. Reaching the boy's torso, he felt with his fingers until he found the slight separation in the boy's robe-- where the gray part of his robe was hanging free from the black material. Slipping his fingers in the separation crack, he wiggled them underneath the cloth. He groped around with the soul intention of grabbing onto anything he felt.

What Spirit did feel was the warm, smooth sensation of bare flesh. His grin warped even more. The boy wasn't wearing an sort of undershirt, making this possibility of a little 'fun time' getting even more intimate.

Feeling Spirit's fingers against his bare chest wasn't the most pleasant feeling. His face screwed up in discomfort, he started to squirm in protest. "P—Please, d---Don't do that! I don't like t-that!"

"I do," Spirit replied back. His voice had adapted a silky undertone to it. "I'm likin' dis a 'ot."

Slipping his hand back out from underneath Justin's clerical robes, he continued to snuggle the man close. He was rubbing his face against the only visible part of the boy's neck. Even though the situation was sick, Justin had to send up a little prayer of thanks. The mantle that he was wearing hid, thankfully, a lot of skin so Spirit couldn't partake of it.

"S-Spirit," Justin said, his voice thick with worry. "Please... l—let me go. I'm scared what's going to happen. You're g—going to regret doing this. This is a sin, S-Spirit!" Tears forming, the boy cried out in a desperate voice, "I w-want to go _home_!"

"Tonight," Spirit said, sticking out his tongue and licking the nape of Justin's neck. "Thish ish yer hwome."

As soon as Spirit's warm, wet tongue had sloppily run over his bare skin, Justin shrieked. A shiver raced up his spine and his squirming commence. He couldn't move much thanks to him being held tightly and secured in the drunk man's arms. He continued to struggle, to free himself.

He had no prevail.

"S-Spirit..!" he cried. He was terrified and confused on what was happening. He couldn't believe that his nightmares with Giriko were being replayed, but this time the cards were dealt in another one's hand. It was the hands of his comrade, his fellow Deathscythe.

"Hold shtill, Jushtin-kwun!" The smell of alcohol drifted from his breath causing the young innocent priest to wince. The situation truly did remind him all too well of the close calls he had encountered with that certain chainsaw heretic."Jashu, did I ever tell ya 'ow cute ya are?"

The Priest's face flushed a cherry red, was the man trying to flirt with him? He struggled again this time, just as the last, he had no success of escaping.

"I'm so glad ya decided ta come homea wiff me. Ya really are in fer a _treat,_ Jushtin."

"Spirit! P-Please stop! Yo-You're s-s—scaring me! I beg of you, please, let go!" Law cried with terror. Being cuddled by another man wasn't exactly what he would consider fun.

Leaning his head down beside Justin's, Spirit spoke softly into the boy's ear, his breath tickling the flesh and hair of that area, "Calm down, Just'n-kwun. Yeh'll enjoy this." His hands ran over the boy's body eventually making their way to the white mantle that covered his shoulders. Mr. Albarn slipped that off then began to unbutton the robes that the priest wore.

A small squeak escaped the teenager's mouth and quickly he reached up grabbing Spirit's arm to try and pull it away. "S-Senpai!"

**[[This next part isn't exactly for those with innocent eyes... .]]**

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However Spirit simply ignored Justin's cries, he knew exactly what he wanted and wasn't going to stop until he got it. Off came the robes, and next the pants, in which Spirit had gently slipped his hands past the band and slithered them down over Justin's hips, massaging his thighs as he continued to force the lower half garments down. When at last his pants had been pulled down clear to his ankles Justin took it as his chance to flee. Although when he attempted to jump away he only found himself falling for the floor and ending up in the perfect position for the seme.

Dropping down to the floor, with a drunken chuckle Spirit pulled the priest into his lap, slowly descending his palms into Law's underwear. A toothy grin spread across Deathscythe's face when his hands discovered what they went in for. Gently they rubbed and massaged their prize.

First a squeak then a cry that slowly converted to a moan was heard coming from the guillotine. While it felt all too enjoyable, he scowled to himself mentally. He didn't want to show his pleasure, he knew if he did it would give Spirit the idea he wanted more and persuade the man causing the chances of rape to become greater. But the more Albarn stroked and kneaded the more Justin couldn't help but forcefully be turned on. His breaths became shallow and he clutched to Spirit's thighs. He bit his lower lip, while squeezing his eyes tightly shut hoping to somehow fight it off and he prayed mentally to his God to forgive him for such a sin. He squirmed and gasped with each teasing and playful touch of Spirit's fingers to his genitals. This was all to strange and new, and his body heat rising he could no longer deny that he was being turned on."S-S-S—Spi-rit…!"

Hearing his name cried with such breathy words along with the touch to his own thighs created Spirit's own to fill with blood and erect; Justin felt a slight build of pressure push against his rear-end. Once realizing that it was the scythe's penis stiffening his eyes grew wide with fear. Suddenly the younger weapon noticed Spirit's tender hands removed themselves from his shorts and when he turned his head and glanced down over his shoulder he saw that the man had begun to unzip and eliminate himself of his own pants. Justin could clearly see the large bulge in the seme's trousers causing him to squeak once again along with creating a nice shade of red to cover his features. He had to think of something fast, if not then stall him so he could have more time to come up with a plan.

"I-I don't think I am ready for this!" Justin cried, trying to sound interested in Spirit as to not hurt his feelings. But of course he wasn't interested. How_ could _he be? He was a young man… Spirit was an old… With a wife… well Ex-wife and kid! He liked women! Not men, right!? Things weren't supposed to work like this! Plus this particular act was strictly against his God's words.

"Pwease, Jashu…" Spirit pleaded. "I have ta… Ya can't justh leave me like this." He nodded down to the erection. "It would justh be cwruel..."

To his surprise Justin found that he had actually allowed himself to follow Spirit's nod and direct his vision towards the elder Deathscythe's crotch. Once realizing what he was looking at he blinked, turning his head away and upon opening his eyes they seemed to have grown even larger.

"I-I Love ya, Just'n… I alwaysh h-have…"

This brought the priest's heart to a stop for a moment. He was in pure shock. A couple things surprised him. One, he had never guessed that this womanizer could be a closet gay; he had always thought the man had committed many sins involving his sex life with women already, but this all but took the cake. Two, never before had he heard such words from any being. Three, he couldn't help but feel his heart flutter at Spirit's words.

There was a long pause where Justin just stared, trying to take in and process what he had heard. While he gawked, Justin was losing precious time that he could've used to escape. Completely lost in his own thoughts, the priest failed to notice that the other Deathscythe had undressed himself and was now crawling closer to him. Gently, but with strength, Spirit picked Justin up and placed him on his bed, climbing onto him and holding him down. The man leaned down to Justin's ear where he carefully licked his lobe with the tip of his tongue before nibbling at it. "I 'ave looked forward ta this fer so long..."

"Senpai! Stop, you're snockered! You're not thinking straight. You don't know what you're bloody do-" he stopped abruptly when he felt Spirit's hands wrap around the band of his briefs and pull them from their rightful place leaving both men completely naked.

Tossing the underwear aside the scythe then grabbed onto a certain something once again, playing with it to get the boy going, and it didn't take long before Spirit was successful. Justin's erection came to life, jumping up with the increased amount of blood.

Justin then found himself turned onto his back, Spirit's lips instantly pressed to his own; sucking on his lower lip a bit before letting his tongue slip into the kiss to playfully fight with Law's unwilling one. "Spi-!" He was interrupted when the elder Deathscythe locked mouths once again, seeming to have not been satisfied with the first go around. The nature of the kiss intensified before at last, for Spirit, it came to an unwanted end.

"Now fer the besth part…"

Justin's eyes grew wide, he knew what the man was implying and struggled to get free. Yet to his surprise he wasn't turned over onto his stomach; instead he was propped up onto his knees before Spirit placed his hands on the boy's chest running them further down until they grabbed a hold of Justin's erection. The man grinned and the boy squeaked. "Senpa-!" But his cry was cut short when an involuntary moan escaped him as Spirit carefully licked the end of his penis before wrapping lips completely around it. "St-Stop---!" Justin pleaded between shaky and uneven but pleasurable breaths, but the man just impishly glanced up at the priest continuing without hesitation with what he was doing. He sucked on the object in his mouth taking it as deep down as he could without gagging, letting his tongue go wild with the foreign toy. Justin cried and moaned louder with every suck and lick.

"T-This is s-so un-unho-holy! Such a s-s—sin…!" Justin cried breathlessly, hoping that Spirit would stop, but he showed no signs of doing so.

Eventually he found himself clinging to the man's red locks forcing his erection further in. The moaning continued, persuading Spirit to gradually speeding up, his sucking becoming stronger. The boy was close and he knew it. "Spir- Spirit! I- I-.. I'm---- nyeeehhggmm---a--aahhhh----!!"

With one last cry of pleasure, cum flowed forth into Spirit's mouth, and without hesitation he gulped it down heartedly. Some dripped from his lips slithering down his face and plummeting to the blankets below. Slowly Justin's erection faded, his grip on the elder Deathscythe's head loosened, and Spirit removed his lips from the boy's body part. Justin panted, closing his eyes trying to savor that last bit of ecstasy that remained, before slowly letting himself collapse on the bed. Although after the last effects of the orgasm were over he shrieked. Spirit had just—!!!

But it wasn't over yet.

The elder Deathscythe used a finger to scoop up some seed that had strayed from his mouth, placing it to his lips where he licked his finger clean. Next he grabbed onto Justin's legs at the bend of his knees and pushed them up so that his legs were parted. His legs rested themselves on Spirit's arms as the man situated himself over the under aged man. Justin watched carefully, fear and uneasiness written as well on his disturbed and scarred looking face. Mr. Albarn looked down toward Justin's anus, getting ready to prepare the boy. Justin inhaled sharply when he suddenly discovered a finger had been wedged up his ass, then another; slowly forcing themselves further in to make room for the erected penis that was soon to be in the same crevice. The priest winced in pain, clutching at the sheets and gritting his teeth, "S-S—Stop!"

To his relief the fingers were removed, but something else filled their place. The young man's eyes grew wide with shock, nearly causing him to faint when he saw that it was Spirit's manhood that had been trust up his butt. "Not yet, Jashu… It'sh mah turn now."

Slowly he slid himself into the boy, he didn't want to hurt him, though he knew no matter what Justin would feel at least some pain. However the scythe tried his best to do it with as much gentleness as possible. Once fully in, he rested there for a while allowing Justin time to adjust, his own breathing had becoming a bit more heavy. Gradually at first Spirit thrust, although he began to move faster. He moaned and grunted with pleasure. All the while Justin stared up at him in complete horror while biting his lower lip and wincing every time he thrust his penis back into him. However the pain slowly began to subside, and feel… rather good. The seme used quick, powerful, yet graceful movements, using his whole body to remove and reenter himself, trying to slide his erection further in with each driving force. It seemed as though Spirit had practice, and it wouldn't of surprised the young man if that was so.

Another moan emitted from Spirit; his breathing became quick as he panted, but a wide grin stayed plastered on his face the entire time, drool trickling down his chin along with the left over's from Justin. Faster and harder he went resulting in the priest to squeak from fear, the bed's frame to creak, and the headboard to clunk against the back wall, "A-A… A l-little mor-more---!" Spirit cried breathlessly.

There really wasn't much he could do, not now. Justin, was being raped, he couldn't escape and it was too late for that anyway. Finally as if it all hit him as once tears flowed forth from his terrified expression, he threw his head back not wanting to look at Spirit any longer. How could his Senpai do this to him?! The man that he looked up to was in his Ass, committing such a horrible sin, and to top that all off; practicing that sin on him, a boy priest! "Ooh, K-K-Kamio-sama… P--Please f-forgive m-me--!" Law cried, clutching at the sheets as he took the man in the anus.

With another moan, this one causing Spirit to tightly shut his eyes and bit down on his lip, and a final thrust, he had it. The muscles of his genitals spazzed setting off nerves which created a feeling better than a high to surge through that area. The creamy white seed exploded forward plastering and painting Justin's internals along with spilling out and splattering back at its creator as well. Law shrieked when he felt this warm jello like fluid pour into him and slither from his anus and down his skin.

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**[[Hardcore Yaoi for the most part, done.]]**

Suddenly Spirit's movements came to a halt and his arms gave way beneath him resulting in the man falling on top of the boy; his sweaty body sticking to the priest's as he nearly passed out on the boy. Spirit panted heavily as Law stared at the ceiling still beyond terror and trying to take in all that just had occurred. He was raped by a loyal Deathscythe to God-- a _male _Deathscythe. But could he really call it rape when at least one point he had started… to enjoy it?

_NO! NO, NO! _The boy screamed at himself through thought. _Don't even think that Justin! You are a follower of God. A holy child of the Lord! DON'T EVEN THINK FOR A MOMENT YOU LIKED THAT! … especially when It came from another man! _

However despite this stressful moment for Justin, he couldn't help but feel exhaustion start to consume his lanky body. Even when you weren't the one doing anything in ecstasy, it still sucked the energy right from you.

Finally finding a bit of strength left in his body Spirit pushed himself up off the boy, withdrawing himself before plopping down on the bed beside him, this time not fighting the fatigue and drunkenness that threatened him into a deep hard slumber. Both men fell asleep beside each other, not expecting that this night would change their lives forever.

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**Chapter By: Sporkie and Wolf**


	9. The birth of a new destiny

**Chapter 9: The birth of a new destiny**

It had been a few weeks later after his sexual ordeal with Justin that Spirit was making his way to the Death Room, just like he usually did like every other day. Although when he arrived he saw that Shinigami-sama held a bouquet of flowers in one of his over sized hands. At first Mr. Albarn was confused, but the Death God was quick to explain once seeing his weapon's expression.

"Justin-kun has fallen ill," the God trilled in his always sickeningly chirpy voice. "He had some bizarre symptoms and so was sent to our school Hospital for treatment."

The red-head moved his glance to the floor where he could allow himself time to think. _This.. isn't because of me is it? I feel terrible as it is knowing that I-… _he didn't even want to think about. He regretted the whole thing, even if it was the best sex he had ever had. _I don't because I have an STD… So… How could it possibly my fault?_

Satisfied by his last thought he looked back up at the God. There was no way Justin was in the Hospital because of him, so there was nothing to worry about.

"Actually," Shinigami-sama started, "I was hoping _you _could stop by and give him these flowers. I thought it would be nice to brighten up his room with a colorful bouquet~!"

"I- …" Spirit was hesitant. What would Justin think if he came to his room with flowers? The boy wouldn't get the wrong idea would he? And he was probably the last person Justin would want to see while he was sick and defenseless in bed. "How come you can't take them?"

"Oh-hoh, Spirit-kun~! I am far too busy."

Glancing around the room he saw no one, and nothing but an eerie silence hung in the air. Not even the God's screen like mirror was focused on any random fights outside of Shibusen. "You don't look bu-"

"Please just take him the flowers, Deathscythe." Shinigami-sama interrupted, shoving the bouquet into the weapon's hands.

"Fine…" He grumbled a little under his breath, then slowly made his way back toward the guillotine hallway. Spirit walked with his back slumped, his arms crossed over one another with the bouquet sticking out to the side. All together his body language suggested he wasn't too pleased with this idea one bit.

While on his way, Spirit noticed eyes watching him. He grumbled to himself knowing that these people were probably thinking he was going to woo some little lady he had just met ten minutes, maybe fifteen minutes, earlier. Once at last he reached the Hospitalization wing of the school, a young nurse directed Spirit to Justin's room, but of course he didn't let her leave before he was able to hit on her first. Sadly, though, it seemed as if his attempts were unsuccessful today. Becoming serious again the older Deathscythe peaked his head around the door and stepped into Law's temporary residence and saw that the young man was fast asleep. It caused a smile to curl up on his lips from the sweet sight before him. Now stepping in fully, he silently crept to the boy's bedside where he rest the massive flower arrangement on a nightstand next to some get well cards. However, what Spirit didn't know what that on the tag it was written:

_**To: Justin-kun**_

_**From: Spirit-Senpai**_

His hands once again found their way to his pants pockets and for a few moments Spirit just watched the teenager sleep, noticing Justin's breath was quiet and sweet as he inhaled through his mouth. He laid still aside from his chest slowly lifting before descending that short distance as oxygen made its way through his lungs. He seemed to be peaceful, so different compared to what he had been on that night a week or so ago. Suddenly deciding that he didn't want to be in the room when the young Deathscythe woke he headed for the door, but stopped at the end of his bed when he saw the boy's charts. Spirit glanced down at the clipboard, toward the soundly sleeping Justin, at the door, then to the clipboard again. Carefully he reached a hand out of his pocket and down to Law's charts curious what was wrong with the boy.

"Let's see…" Spirit mumbled, it was barely audible even to himself. The more he read, the more he became afraid. The man's eyes grew wide, and he held the clipboard closer, reading it over hoping to God what he saw before was just some cruel joke his mind was playing. But it wasn't. He read it again, and one more time just to be sure. Each time it was exactly what he had read the time before.

Under the symptoms the doctor had wrote in neatly written print: 'Justin complains of nausea, vomiting, headaches, dizziness as well as feeling light headed. He says that there was blood in his urine before, but he is now constipated. He has also noticed swelling of his breasts. Oddly enough, these are all symptoms connected with pregnancy…'

His grasp loosened on the clipboard causing it to fall from his hands and smack loudly against the tile floor, resulting in Justin's eyes to flicker open. However, by the time the boy's vision had cleared and his mind pulling together from a drugged up sleep, Spirit was already out the door and if it wasn't for the new flowers Justin wouldn't have known anyone had come to visit. Once seeing who the flowers were from he let out a small worried gasp, terrified what the man might have done to him while he was immersed in his heavy slumber, but, at the same time, he felt a bit touched that his Senpai was concerned for him.

The boy sighed, staring up at the ceiling with his blank empty expression. He was wondering what was wrong with him. He felt so weak and fragile as well as uncomfortable from the constipation and his churning stomach. All he wanted was to get better...

**--------------**

Spirit had made a mad dash for Stein's house, not even knocking on the door before bursting in. "STEIN!" The scythe cried.

The doctor was just on his way out the exit, and if he had been any closer he would have been knocked to the ground by the door that had violently been swung open. "No need to yell, Senpai… I am _right _here."

"S-Stein! Thank God!" He grabbed the man by the shoulders, shaking him a bit. "THIS IS IMPORTANT-" he stopped when he saw the younger man glare at him seeming to become slightly annoyed. Realizing what it was about he lowered his panicked voice so that it was more suitable for inside. "S-Stein… I need your help… I have a few questions about… _pregnancy_."

"Pregnancy?" He asked with a quizzical look, "Senpai, I do believe you would know more about that than me. After all, you are the one who had a child."

He paused, his arms falling from Stein's shoulders and to his side. How was he going to ask this without sounding like a complete idiot? Not that Franken Stein didn't think he was an idiot already. "Well… yes… b-but is… it possible, under any circumstances that a man… can get _pregnant_?"

The gray-haired man stared at his former weapon a long moment before he burst into laughter, tears even coming to his eyes. But seeing the completely serious and petrified look on Albarn's face made him realize that perhaps this wasn't all a joke. "S-Spirit… Are you serious?" After getting a nod as a reply Stein continued, "of course not, Senpai. It's not possible."

Suddenly as if all his worries had been wiped away a big grin spread across his face. _Of course it's not possible! _He thought._ No need to be paranoid! Justin isn't pregnant! _"Thank you Stein! SO MUCH!" he grabbed his hand shaking it quickly before turning on his heels to leave.

Noting this sudden mood change, Stein couldn't help but laugh a bit and joke. "Senpai, are _you_ pregnant..?"

_I THOUGHT HE JUST SAID IT'S NOT POSSIBLE FOR A MAN TO GET PREGGY!? _He screamed inside of his head taking the doctor's gag literally. The weapon turned his head back, a horrified expression on his features, his body trembling as well. What would he do if Justin _was_ indeed pregnant. And… what if Stein was catching onto this secret?

"NOOO!!" Spirit said, crying out in a panic. He clutched at his scalp, his fingers digging into his red locks as he pulled on them. "MEN CAN'T GET PREGNANT!"

Stein blinked in shock. He saw that reaction. Narrowing his eyes, he dove into his soul perception. He took a peek at his weapon's soul and, sure enough, it was trembling and shivering from an extreme sense of fear. The lambent light of his soul was chaotically fluxing. He was unsteady and disjointed in his core.

As if he could feel his soul being spied at, Spirit made a mad dash for the door. Growling, Stein hooked his leg underneath his rolling lab chair. With an expert kicking swing he directed it at the red haired man. It zoomed forward, screaming on it's pushed path. With a clattering crash it slammed into the back of the scythe's legs.

With a yelp Spirit fell back into the chair. It kept going, catching on the step connecting to door frame to the outside stoop. The sudden jerking force caused the chair to topple over, the whimpering weapon taken down with it.

Calmly sticking a cigarette in his mouth, he took out a lighter and expertly flicked it to life. Searing the end of it, he sucked in the sweet burning nicotine's smoke. Shoving a hand in his lab coat pocket while the other one steadied the cigarette in his mouth, he strode over and gazed down at his partner and comrade.

Spirit was downright pathetic looking. Hunched over the chair, he was trying to untangle his tie from the wheels of the contraption. He looked jittery. Somewhat _was _on his mind. "Senpai," he began with a growl. "What's going on?"

Getting up after finally freeing his poor tie from the chair's cold clutches, he quickly cast a nervous glance at his Meister. Sure he could probably lie to Stein, but the man knew that his Meister and comrade always found out. He had always seen through his poor attempts at covering the truth. He didn't want the man to find out and possibly make the situation even worse.

"Stein," he said, panting. His heart was still racing from that terrifying chair ride. He'd have to remind himself to sneak into the lab someday and nail that sucker down to the floor so that could never happen again. "I'll tell you, but I first have to find out more information. Please, give me time. Someday you'll know."

"Spirit," Stein replied tensely. "You _will _tell me what's going on. God forbid you're hiding something like secretly worshiping the Kishin, or you murdered some prostitute you've jumped recently." He jabbed a pointing finger between the man's eyes. He had to admit his weapon had a strange gaze. Those colored orbs could either be green when he was happy, or teal when he was scared or scared.

Right now Spirit's eyes were a watery teal.

Taking offense to Stein's comment, he reached up and slapped the man's hand aside. "As if! You really think that about me, Stein?!" He felt a little hurt that his Meister could even think he was as insane to do any of those things he had mentioned.

"At this point I don't even know." His eyes darkened, as did his aura. He disliked having secrets kept from him. It made him go insane with worry, especially if it was coming from his weapon. He cared deeply for his partner. He even cared, perhaps, a bit more than he should, but he didn't care if others thought his deep feelings for the man was wrong. Having Spirit obviously try to ignore the subject made his blood broil deep within his twisted veins. "You've been keeping a lot from me, Senpai. You've been ignoring my calls, putting down my invites to come over here for supper... You've been jumpy, fearing that there will be some Deathscythe meeting when we all gather in a group. You mentioned that to me, remember? You're not going through another fear of a 'transfer', again, are you?"

Running a hand through his locks, Spirit could feel himself beginning to sweat from fear. He scuffed at the concrete with his shoe. "I have to just think things over. I have to find out a few more things out. I.... I just--..."

Letting out a disgusted sigh, the Meister waved Spirit off. Rolling his eyes, he snorted, making a trail of sickly smoke to waft in the weapon's general direction. "Fine. However, Senpai, keep this in mind. Whatever you're hiding will either grow and destroy you in the end, or you'll be stupid enough to let others know and you'll be broken down by their crippling stares. If the latter happens, I won't be very happy..."

Quickly nodding, the weapon agreed. He didn't try to hide the fact he wanted to leave, though. He had to escape. Staring into Stein's accusing eyes was making him crack more and more inside. The last thing he wanted was for his defenses to get so low that he'd be overcome with insanity over this little thing.

Or...was this _little _thing really a_ big_ thing?

Without hesitation or missing a beat, the scythe quickly turned, his feet hitting the ground. Racing out of Stein's residence radius, he left the strange whithered yard of concrete and twisted trees that surrounded that lab.

Leaning against the door frame, lazily puffing on his cigarette, Stein watched the man leave. He narrowed his eyes, scowling deeply.

Spirit Albarn was keeping something from him. Stein had always _hated _it when his experiments tried to get a backbone.

--------------

"N—Nygus-chan! I—I need some help, and I was wondering---"

Turning around to see who had cried her name, the nurse blinked. There before her was a frustrated man. Not just any man-- it was Shinigami-sama's beloved weapon. It was _the _scythe. It was _Deathscythe_.

It was Spirit Albarn.

Nygus was a supple woman with a flyaway crop of wild dreadlocks. Still young, the bright and intelligent woman was swathed head to foot in linen wrappings much like a mummy (there were even rumors that she was dead, just like her Meister). She was Sid-sensei's beloved demon knife. Nygus was tactful, loyal and blessed with a loving and caring heart. For this reason she was Shibusen's head nurse. She took care of many of the sick. From minor tummy aches to broken bones, she's seen _and_ healed all.

However the case of Justin Law truly baffled her.

She had been bending over his bed while the boy had slipped back under his drugged sleep. She had a stethoscope put to work, the hearing end jammed in both ears. She had just applied the cold end of the device to Justin, pressing it up against his chest to hear his hallowed heartbeat, when she heard the door slam open. Even with her ears plugged up she could easily hear Spirit's scared yelp.

More or less, Nygus was amazed the Guillotine didn't wake up. Then again the amount of drugs she had given him would keep him comfortably tired and sedated. The one thing Law had begged for was sleep. Well, obviously, she had seen to that one plea easily enough. She felt bad for the man. She knew what he was going through, and she had an idea that it was making him so scared he just wanted to sleep it off.

_As if he can sleep something like this off, like it was all just some bad dream,_ she sadly thought. She glanced, her beautiful blue eyes bright against her yellowed linen wrappings. "Spirit-senpai?" She asked, taking the stethoscope out of her ears. She draped it around her neck, keeping it on hand just in case.

Spirit opened his mouth but quickly closed it, almost backing out of the door purely from his fear. He had seen Law laying there in his bed. The boy was peacefully sleeping, just like before when he had barged in and read his notes. Unknowingly he had run right back into the sick bay. Mentally groaning, he found it too ironic that he had returned to the very same place he ran from in the first place. He had heard Nygus' voice and simply followed that. He hadn't paid attention to where he was going!

Once again the need in Spirit to flee was insanely strong.

"Nygus," Spirit said, gulping. "C—Can I talk to you outside? Somewhere secluded? I have a few important things to ask you."

Smiling gently, the woman nodded. Seeing as to how Law wouldn't wake up anytime soon, she walked over to the man. Cupping the scythe's elbow, he motioned for the man to follow her. She led him out of the room, down the corridor until they happened upon an empty medical examination room.

Spirit instantly went over to a chair and sat down heavily. Slouching, he looked like a broken, terrified man. His heart was thudding so hard his sides were beginning to ache. Or, at least, he imagined them hurting. He couldn't quite tell if this was all just some nightmare, or the harsh cold grip of some cruel reality.

Instantly pitying the man, she walked over and laid a kind hand on his back. "Spirit-senpai? What's wrong? What did you want to ask me?"

Taking a moment to calm his breathing, he gazed up at her. "Nygus... is there anyway a man can be pregnant?"

There was a tense, awful moment of silence that settled in the room. Slowly, sitting down in a rolling office chair, Nygus placed her hands delicately in her lap. She remained cool, calm and professional. "So... I take it you read Justin Law's charts?"

Bowing his head in shame, Spirit felt his face flush. He had pretty much admitted right then and there that he had entered and riffled through the boy's medical information. That was a grave problem. One wasn't supposed to do that. Anything medical was personal, and he knew that. He possibly could have even committed a crime doing so. "I---I'm sorry. I was told to drop something off, and I couldn't help myself. I h—had to know what was wrong..."

Smiling, Nygus shook her head. "It's okay. I figured someone snooped around. Those flowers were a nice touch to the place, but I have to say the chart randomly lying on the floor wasn't too nice to find after I had stepped on it, nearly cracking the clip off of it."

Once again apologizing, the man found that he was hushed by Nygus. He could tell he was forgiven. Still... he couldn't come to forgive himself if the boy really _was_ pregnant.

"So you read the charts," Nygus began, slowly choosing her words well. "I'm sure, then, that you found that his symptoms were a bit... strange, if not troubling."

Spirit nodded. He clasped his hands together, the nails digging into his flesh. "Someone wrote under the symptoms that they pointed to someone who was pregnant. I was just worried that Justin was..." He trailed off. He couldn't even come to admit it. How could something as blizzard as that possibly happen?

"He is."

A whistling noise was heard in the back of Spirit's head. It grew steadily louder until he heard a loud crash as his hear, and mind, basically tore asunder. Those words-- did he hear correctly? Was this really real? Justin was really _pregnant?!_

"W—What?"

Lowering her gaze to the floor, she scowled. "By some odd miracle- or, perhaps, freak mishap- Justin is pregnant."

Spirit gripped the armrests of the patient chair he was resting in. He leaned on it's edge, his face drained of all color. His mouth went try and he started to shake and tremble so much from his rattled nerves that his teeth were beginning to clatter against one another. "Did you do tests...? Did you check him out? Nygus, Justin is a guy, like me. There isn't a single way that a man can get pregnant!" Scrunching up his face, he tried not to cry. "I...I even talked to Stein about that odds of that happening. He said--"

"I hate to say it," Nygus said soothingly, "but Stein is wrong in this situation. I took blood tests. I even took a pregnancy test using urine from a cup he went in. Everything checks out." Sighing, she held up her hands. "Justin Lawis _pregnant_."

Groaning, Spirit hung his head. Nygus, noticing this guilty sort of response, questioned the reason to which Spirit replied with a shaky, "I'm at fault then."

"What do you mean?"

He hated to admit it, but he had to. The feeling of guilt was literally trying to burst out of his chest, ripping through his ribcage. He had caused the boy this pain. Justin was faced with the possibility of a agonizing childbirth.

Spirit spilled forth his story. Grimly retelling everything that he could remember thanks to his intoxication, all the while leaving out the key issue that Justin was _forced_ to do sex unwillingly, he was slowly forming the pieces of the puzzle in Nygus' mind. Spirit could see her face switch from disgust to confusion, to pity, sadness and back to confusion.

Sitting back in her chair, Nygus let everything sink in._ So that's what happened,_ she thought. _A simple case of male on male sex blown into something even stranger._ She shook her head, standing up. "Spirit...then it's no doubt that you're the, ah, _other_ father of the child. As a Priest Justin would have had refused sex of any sort, for a majority- if not all- of his live. A Priest having sex is seen as disgraceful in some areas, seeing as sexual lust is a temptation and a sin for a man of the cloth. You would have been possibly the only person in his life he's ever had sexual intercourse with, Senpai..."

Spirit Albarn was possibly the first person that Justin had had sex with. Because of this known fact it was only obvious who the other parent of the child to be was.

Biting his lip, he nodded. "I understand and...a-accept that." A sudden thought entered his mind. In a panic he looked up at Nygus as she stood there in front of him. "Nygus, does Justin know yet that he's-?"

She shook her head solemnly. "I was trying to figure out how to let him know. After all, it's not everyday a man is impregnated..."

"W-When were you going to tell him...?"

"Right now, actually. I was going to wake him up and inform him. The sooner the boy knows, the sooner he can get over the traumatic shock. And, besides, if he wants an abortion or another option, it has to be done right away."

There was a moment of silence. The unknown reaction that the boy would give hung heavily in the air. The only noise heard other than Spirit's pounding heartbeat was the echoing tick of the wall clock as it churned over to the next hour. Three in the afternoon already?

"Spirit, it's good you came," Nygus softly said with a grim smile. "If you're the other fa-- ...er... parent of the child, then it's your duty to inform Justin."

"M—M—M—Me?!" Spirit jumped from fright so much he nearly toppled out of his chair. He looked upon Nygus with pleading eyes. His voice had gone squeaky as if it stuck in his throat from sheer panic. "W---Why?! J-J—Justin probably w-w-wants to n-never see m—my f-f-face again!!"

"Spirit..."

"He'll m—murder me! He'll kill me! I'll be c---c-cut up into p—pieces, thrown o—out the w—window into the garbage!" Grabbing at his head, he pulled on his hair. He was starting to hyperventilate. "I—I can see it now. He'll turn into his weapon and then---"

Narrowing her crystal blue eyes, Nygus changed her tone until it was calm, but steely. "He's not going to kill you, Senpai. If you are the other bearer of this child, then you need to be there for him. This is very frightening for the boy. Imagine if you were going through this."

Guiltily casting his eyes downwards, he nodded. He knew he had to support the boy-- that is, if he kept the child. It all depended on what Law did.

Standing up, Nygus held out a hand for the petrified man to take. Her heart went out to the fellow weapon. She knew that this wouldn't be easy for the man. "Come on, let me take you to the room. We can do it together. I won't leave your side..."

Shamefully shaking, Spirit grasped her hand. Pulling himself up, he felt like he'd instantly pass out. He didn't, though. He had to stay strong. He had to tell Justin everything.

Most importantly, Spirit had to apologize.

--------------

_Where am I? What's going on?_

Turning his head, Justin Law produced a mighty yawn. Frowning, he cracked open a misty blue eye. For some reason he had hoped, well, rather _prayed_, that this was all just a bad dream. He had it in his mind that the more he slept, the better chance that when he woke up he'd find himself back in reality and away from his current nightmarish medical mystery crisis.

Nope. There he was, laying in that starched and sterile medical bed in that empty sick bay. Groaning, he gazed back up at the ceiling. He wanted to vomit again, he could feel it. Absentmindedly he felt his hand move towards his stomach. He pressed his palm against it, letting his body shiver as a sigh was produced.

He wanted to get better.

Breathing in deeply, he glanced around the sick bay. No one had been brought in so, once again, he was lonely. The color theme was white, and it only made him more tired as the hours drug on. There had to be some burst of life in this room!

Justin was about to try and close his eyes to get more sleep when he paused. He had heard a gentle, but firm, knock on the door. Flicking his gaze over to it, he slightly sat up. It made him nauseous to do so, but he had to start forcing himself to act like he was feeling better. Perhaps if he fooled himself his mind would really believe he was well.

"C-Come in...?" Justin gripped at the sheets that covered his body. He felt a little hot, so he pushed them down a bit. "Is that you, Stein-hakase? Nygus-chan?"

The door opened a little, just enough for someone to squeeze through. Justin watched, sort of disturbed by the fact the person didn't come straight in. Biting his bottom lip and chewing on it, he tried to calm himself._ I'm just jumpy after that night with Spirit,_ Justin thought to himself._ That's all. No one is out to get me. I'll be perfectly fine!_

Movement was heard from behind the door. Peeking around it's corner was non other than Spirit himself.

_Scratch that previous thought, _Justin whimpered in his mind. He was beginning to feel his panic level rise to critical peak._ I'm going to get raped again, I just know it--!!_

Spirit gave an uneasy grin. He tried to be polite and friendly, but he could already see the fear building in the boy's eyes. He waved his hand shyly, chuckling. "H—Hey t—t-there, J—Justin-kun...!"

Squeaking out of fright, Justin yanked up on the covers. He was pulling them up so it covered most of his chest. There wasn't any skin to be seen anyway (the hospital gown he was wearing made sure of that), but he didn't want to risk the man getting randy all over again, especially when he was incapacitated such as he was.

Justin scooted a bit, hunkering down in his bed. He wanted to hide. He wanted someone to come and save him. He pulled the covers up even more until most of his face was hidden. "A—Ah, h—h-hello, S—S—Spirit-sen-npai...!"

Spirit hesitated. He drummed his fingers alongside the door frame as his eyes shifted downwards. His face flushed horribly. "H---How are you f—feeling...?"

How was he feeling? How was he, Justin Law, a man who had been raped weeks earlier and now lay incapacitated in bed from some strange and mysterious illness, was _feeling_? How could he possibly respond to Spirit's question? He was horrified. He was terrified. He was sick. He wasn't sure what was going inside of his body. Every second of the day his stomach churned. Every morning and night, right before drifting off to sleep, he'd stumble out of his bed, only to rush to the bathroom and kneel before the toilet before vomiting up a storm.

How was he _feeling?_

Still, Justin had to admit that he was somewhat touched that Spirit would come to ask how he was. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw the flower arrangement that still rested on the table, though it was now residing in a vase that Nygus had supplied. Perhaps Spirit was seeking forgiveness? As a Priest, Justin knew how hard that road to atonement was to finish. A bit of him pitied the Deathscythe.

Justin lowered the covers a bit, away from his face. He uncovered just enough for Spirit to see his blue eyes peeking over the edge. They were wider, and more dilated, than usual. "A---Ah, w—w—well, I'm doing fi---" He paused. How could he lie? A shiver passed through his entire body, making him shake violently for a few seconds. With frustrated tears he whimpered, "I—I'm not f—fine. To be honest, I'm f—far from it."

Spirit sucked in his breath, his flush getting even worse. Slowly he nudged the door open the rest of the way. Quietly he eased on in, taking each step gingerly just in case the boy would have some sort of panic attack upon seeing that he was approaching his bedside.

"I—I'm feeling awful," Justin continued. He saw Spirit getting closer, but for some reason, at that moment, he didn't care. He let go of his covers, letting them only cover his stomach on down. "I'm s-so s---scared. I'm... b-beginning to wonder i—if I have some w—weird virus..."

"Some virus,"Spirit chuckled took another step, now approaching the end of the boy's bed. "A—Ah, well, I...I guess t—the real reason I came ... is t-to apologize." Gulping, he quickly waved his hand frantically. "T—Though an a-apology won't b-be enough to m-make things right..."

"S—Spirit," Justin said, his voice soft and timid, like a whispering spout of wind. "If t-this is about the r----rape, I've t—tried to push o—out of my mind, so it's ok--"

"This isn't about that," Spirit said quickly, his voice cracking a bit. "I came here t-to apologize for--"

There were the faint sound of footsteps against the linoleum tiling. Both Spirit and Justin glanced towards the door. The two were greeted to the sight of Nygus entering the room, casually looking about. Her crystal blue eyes scanned both of their worried and strained faces, and, though her mouth was covered by those bandages, she gave a sad smile.

Justin calmed down a lot more seeing a friendly face. If Spirit tried anything, well, she'd be there to stop him, right? He quickly glanced back to Spirit, wanting the man to continue. However the man remained silent, his face ashen in tint.

Silently, like a ghost, Nygus went over to the end of the Guillotine's bed. She reached down, grabbing the clipboard. She slowly flipped through the pages, he gaze falling from the pages and landing down on the boy, causing him to squeak and slip down under the covers again.

Spirit shakily made his way to the chair facing Justin's bedside. He sat down, hanging his head. He clasped his hands together, his nails digging into his flesh. He wanted to run away. He'd admit he was cowardly at this point, but he had all the reason to be like that. Considering the situation, he knew there was something just truly _wrong _about the whole ordeal.

"Justin-kun," Nygus softly whispered, he voice muffled slightly from the bandages covering her mouth. "I believe a diagnosis has been finally found."

A diagnosis? Why did that sound like this was some incurable disease? The lump of dread that had been lodged in his throat suddenly plummeted down into his stomach. He glanced from Nygus, to Spirit and back again. "Y—You do...? I... I...." He gripped his covers tightly, bunching them up in his fists. "I'm not d---dying... a-am I...?"

Laughing a little, Nygus shook her head. "No, no. Of course you're not dying!" Glancing back down at the charts, her voice went grim again. "And, well, depending on what you decide to do, you can have a little surgery and be as good as new in a couple of months or--"

She cut off. How was she going to ease onto the next list of options without causing too much of an uprising in panic? The boy was already on the brink of breaking.

Justin felt his mouth go dry. "Or...?"

"Or," she continued, "you can wait for a bit. The symptoms may improve- or worsen- but, eventually, they'll go away by itself. That option will be the longest, though."

"H—How long would it take, estimated?"

Spirit's grip on his own hands tightened even more, and he swore he could feel blood. He felt his heart stop for a second or two. This was it. It was now or never. He had to brace himself for the reaction, whether good or bad.

Nygus stared long and hard at the scared boy. "Nine months, to be precise..."

Spirit waited, on baited breath. He watched Justin's face for any sort of reaction. The only thing that shone in those wide, blue eyes were fear and confusion.

"Nine.... m—months?!" Justin's voice squeaked. He hadn't an idea what this meant. "I—Is this some s-sort of w---weird Cancer, or...?"

"Justin," she said, her thumb pressed against the pages of is medical report. "There really is, well... there isn't an easy way to tell you this, and... we really don't know how this happened in the first place but..."

"But..?"

"Justin, you're--" She sighed, lowering her eyes. She gripped the clipboard hard. She just couldn't say it. Here she was, trying to be the nurse that she had to be. She was trying to lead the example for Spirit, and at this moment in time she was lacking the guts to do so.

Law could feel the tears beginning to start again. He gasped, begging fearfully, "I'm what...? P—Please, tell me...!"

"You're pregnant," Spirit said, his voice dying away in the middle of his sentence. However he knew the boy heard his words. He saw the spike of fear in the boy rise considerably.

Justin's face fell. He felt his blood go ice cold in his veins. Was it turning into ice? He wouldn't have been surprised. "I'm...w---w-what...?"

"You're pregnant," Nygus said, repeating Spirit's words.

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**Chapter by: Wolf and Sporkie**


	10. Jordon

**Note: Just Letting you all know. We're running short on chapters to update with. And as we are getting further along, we're nearing the climax of the story. So, Chapters might start getting a little longer, and we might have long pauses between updates. If we stop updating every sunday, please don't stop coming by and checking for updates. WE WILL STILL BE WRITING! It just might take longer for us to get the new installments up.**

**Thanks- Sporkie and Wolf**

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**Chapter 10: Jordon**

Justin stared in shock at Nygus, suddenly becoming sick to even think about the red head by him. He figured that that horrifying night would be behind them now, yes, forever burned into his mind, but at least not having consequences from it. H-How could this possible happen!?

"P—P…P---…pregnant…?" Justin spoke so quietly he was almost inaudible, "I'M PREGNANT!? BUT HOW!?—n—No! T—this must be a joke! Right? B—because I played a trick on Azusa at the last Christmas party..?"

Spirit flinched ducking his head down as he quickly glanced away from the boy. He felt so guilty and ashamed… and for a night he vaguely remembered.

Nygus let her eyes move away from Justin's as well then shrugged before holding the boy's charts close to her breast. "…Justin," He voice was soft and caring, "This isn't a joke….We.. We don't entirely know how…. Bu--"

"Did you take tests!? Are you c—certain!?" The young deathscythe felt so dizzy, the churning in his stomach only felt to worsen and he suddenly wished he had a bucket by his bedside seeing as this time around he might not be able to make it to the bathroom.

The woman nodded slowly nodded before glancing at Spirit and nodded her head toward Justin indicating that he should try to comfort him.

"J-Justin…" Mr. Albarn gulped before reaching out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, however before it was able to make contact it was swatted away.

"D—Don't touch me!" He whimpered sinking back into his covers and pulling them up over his head.

He wanted to hide from the world, and under here he couldn't see anyone… maybe no one could see him… He trembled, his entire body shaking. He was nothing but a freak, a man and pregnant… How was that supposed to work!? No wonder no one ever cared about him! Just another reminder why he was such an outcast.

"J—Justin… p—please I---I….I'm so sorry…. B—but please t—try to s—stay calm…" Spirit whined as he moved away again taking a seat on the chair he had previously been sitting in, he sounded like he was holding back so many emotions. The man hung his head clutching at his hair. He never meant to harm the boy; he never would have raped him in the first place if he was in the right mind. "I—I'm so sorry… I—I'm sorry… s—so so sorry…." He continually muttered.

Justin was so consumed in his own thoughts that he failed to hear anything that Spirit had been mumbling, he curled up under his sheets clutching at his sides. He felt terrified, confused, and frightened. He needed a hug. Inside of him was a fetus. Inside of him was something women only had. He was a male. He didn't have a scrap of female genetics in him.

Nygus stood silent for the longest time waiting for the two men two regain themselves, when after a while neither showed signs of calming she continued. "About that surgery Justin… You can have an abortion if you would like. The sooner the better," She paused as she hesitated to continue. "We're not entirely sure if it would be safe for you to have a child... seeing as you're... well a male... so… We recommend it in this rare case... B--But maybe you would like to discuss this with Spirit?"

The women took a step back and turned to head for the door saying, "I'll leave you two to discuss it on your own."

"W—WAIT!" Spirit cried jumping from the chair and rushing over to Nygus, "P—PLEASE! D—Don't l—leave me a-alone wit-" But he was too late, the scythe wasn't even able to finish his sentence before Nygus had left the room shutting the door behind her.

Gradually Spirit turned his body to face the boy his face written with shame and stress. "J—Justin I—I'm s-so sor-" He began to apologize again but was cut short when the guillotine interrupted him.

"I—I can't abort," He mumbled from under the covers before. There was a bit of rustling before he peaked out from underneath the blankets sitting up and pushing them down to his lap. "I can't…"

"B—but you heard Nygus…. She said there could be complications.. W-what if…."

Justin shook his head, "I know… But it wouldn't be fair of me to take an innocent life like that… It's against my religion, Senpai." Tears formed in his eyes and began to stream down his cheeks leaving behind glistening trails.

Nodding slowly before looking away Spirit understood, though he still was worried about the young man. "Then at least let me pay for your medical bills… it's the least I can do…"

"N-No! I won't allow that! You won't be paying f-for any of it!" Justin's lip trembled a little before he held his face in his hands, tears slipping through his fingers.

Seeing this he couldn't stand it, Spirit turned away and headed for the door. He had caused the boy so much pain and agony. He'd suffer for so many months then only have a child that would end up consuming all of his time. He had shattered any of the dreams Justin would have previously had, and replaced them with a baby that would need attention and care 24/7. Yes, it may end up being alright, he knew Justin would make a good father… mother? But he also knew that he wouldn't be able to all the things he had wanted to and chase all those dreams.

The priest would struggle through the rest of his life, both financially and socially. And it was all thanks to him. That baby would require time and money, and not to mention how people would react knowing that Justin had a son. Of course he didn't necessarily have to tell them he was the one that birthed the child, but if the kid ever wanted to go into any sort of serious relationship how would the women react knowing he had a child already. He already could guess that the baby would be Justin's downfall… No woman would want to be responsible for that baby just if they wanted to be Justin's girlfriend.

Of course… there was always the choice to have him adopted off. Spirit sighed, he didn't want to think about this all right now… When the time came then he would let it bug him. Right now he just wanted to deny the fact all together. Although… that was a bit difficult at a time like this. Spirit clutched the door knob and slipped out the door silently without saying another word.

"S-Spirit…?"

Not long later Nygus reentered the room pulling Spirit back in whether he wanted to be a part of this conversation or not. "Were you two able to decide?"

Justin gave Spirit a quick glance before looking back at his doctor, "I…I'd like to give it a go."

She simply nodded though concern seemed to wash over her face before she clicked the end of a pen and began to write something down on a clip board. Second thoughts then began to worry him. What was he doing? He should have aborted. He could very well die from this. Blood loss, complications, pain and agony, damanged organs-- everything ran through his mind. No. he had to do this.

"Then… I believe you can be on your way, Mr. Law. There is no reason for you to be staying in the Hospital another night…" She paused for a moment, "You will have to be on maternity leave until the baby is born. There is no way you should be on the job while you're pregnant, not with your line of work. In fact, I suggest you don't even leave Death City."

"J-Justin… I-if you need to place to stay while you're here… Y-You can stay with me—" What was he saying!? Yes, he wanted to be help to the boy, but honestly, the guillotine would probably be more terrified to stay with him than Franken Stein even!

Jumping a little at Spirit's voice, he blinked at the man. He looked the scythe in the eyes, then, as a small blush washed over his features, he nodded, "I… I would appreciate that."

Spirit was taken back when his offer was accepted, but he nodded before casting his eyes down again.

"How about you go get into your own set of clothes while I go check you out," Nygus said warmly offering both men a reassuring smile as he attempted to leave. However Spirit grabbed her shoulder lightly just as she had reached the door. He leaned in close to her whispering something into her ear. Justin tilting his head out of curiosity as he wondered what was said… He could only wonder, and the possibilities frightened him. He was such a pervert after all.

Really, Spirit had only asked her to send Justin's medical bills to him, he didn't want the boy to pay for them, not when it was his fault. Nygus nodded understandingly then left the room again, leaving the two men alone yet again.

"Well… You heard her, better get ready to go," The older deathscythe mentioned and once again he took a seat in 'his' chair. He leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees as his hands fiddled with one another out of uneasiness, "Do you need me to help you..?"

He cursed at himself mentally, that was the wrong thing to say! He had to watch his tongue, make sure nothing he said could be… 'rape suggestive'. He felt bad enough, he didn't want to frighten the young priest any further. "Do you want me to leave the room?"

The blonde-haired boy shook his head, his eyes watery. He didn't want to be left alone, he was terrified to be alone… Even if it meant Spirit's company, it was worth it. He desperately needed some comfort.

"I-I believe I saw your robes folded up in the bathroom." Albarn nodded his head toward the door across the room, from where he sat he could see the black and gray garments that Justin was usually adorned in. "If those aren't comfortable I can go home real fast and get one of my old shirts and old pair of jeans."

Despite all these offers, and even paying for his medical bills, Spirit still felt he needed to do more. After all the way it seemed now, he had altered Justin's life for the worst.

"n-no, my robes will be fine…" To him, there was nothing more comforting than the heavy material of his clergy robes. Justin had already tried clambering out of his bed, he lost his balance at first wobbling slightly but was thankfully able to catch his balance before he fell. "S—spirit… I---I…….I'm scared."

Quickly the man looked up at the priest with concern. "…I know Justin… Why wouldn't you be? I—I know I-I've said this so many times already… B-But once again I-I am so very sorry…"

It happened so fast, Justin suddenly jumped up and rushed to Spirit falling to the ground at his feet and grabbing the man around the waist pulling himself into his lap as he clung to the older man. He sobbed his entire body trembling. Spirit on the other hand was surprised by this reaction and let out a small shocked sort of cry when Justin had clung to him like so. He stared down at the sobbing boy for the longest time before scooting off the chair so there position wouldn't be as awkward. Justin was like a lost frightened child just wishing for all his fears to vanish from existence. Spirit just wished he could chase away his fears. Even despite the fact that the boy clung to him, he refused to wrap his arms around the priest… just in case, in case Justin felt threatened…. In case he got the wrong idea. "C-Come on now Justin…. You've got to be strong." Spirit helped Justin to his feet, his hands now on his shoulders as he stared back into those watery scared blue eyes before he continued. "you're a deathscythe after all."

Justin nodded but sniffled a bit. He lifted the sleeve of his hospital gown and wiped the tears from his eyes. Offering a sad but reassuring smile, Spirit lifted the boys chin and ruffled his hair a bit, treating him almost like he was a small kid. "Go on now... Get dressed so we can get out of here. It's getting late and we still need to talk to Shinigami-sama before I take you on home. "

"R-right…" Justin murmured before moving from Spirit and toward the bathroom where his clothes would be. He wondered about what his God might say… and then it hit him. The sin. An old fear resurfaced but he tried his best to smooth out his expression and leave it emotionless again. And though he had some success, it wasn't one hundred percent unnoticeable.

The young man hurried on over to the bathroom shutting the door so Spirit couldn't see him but leaving just crack so he wasn't completely blocked off. He didn't want to be alone. His hands were shaky and his body shook though he somehow was able to slip into his clothes, but not without having a little bit of trouble.

Noting the priest's reaction to what he had said his eyes fell back to the ground, he knew exactly what he had reminded the boy of. Spirit scuffed the tile floor with his left foot before slipping his hands into his pockets and looking back up, glancing about the room and doing all he could to not look in the direction of the door Justin was dressing behind. His sight caught onto the large bouquet of flowers that he had brought in and trying to think of something to eliminate the awkwardness in the room he mentioned, "So how did you like the flowers Shinigami-Sama got you?"

_Shinigami-sama? B-But— _Justin, who was trying to get his arm through a sleeve paused momentarily and blinked as he thought. _…I thought that Spirit had gotten those for me… wasn't his name on the tag…?_

Why did he feel so disappointed by that? Why should he even care that they weren't from Spirit? Did he even feel his heart beat stop momentarily as he heard that…? Why!? It didn't make any sense. "O-Oh! They are beautiful! I love them." He continued dressing beginning to button up his form fitting robes.

Not wanting the awkward silence to find it's place again Spirit struggled to find more things to say, "Y-yeah, he was too busy to stop by… I—I still think he could've found the time to bring them by himself..---! N—Not that I minded though! … I just figured I'd be the last person you would want to see…" His voice started to die off by the time he had started that last sentence.

After slipping on his snowy white mantle he let his eyes fall to the floor. Justin clasped his cross necklace around him. He was now fully clothed, aside from the shinigami-sama head phones that draped from the opening in his mantle instead of being placed in his ears. But for once, he didn't want them in… he wanted to listen. He was curious as to what Spirit was trying to say. Did he not want to visit him in the first place? Those flowers had given him hope that maybe in fact Spirit did care… But now he wasn't so sure. That card had his name on it... He could've sworn it. But had Shinigami-sama put him up to the task? The boy shook his head trying to knock the thoughts from his head, but he was unsuccessful. His hand clutched tightly around the cross pendant that hung from the chain around his neck. Why did he care so much? The priest took a deep breath before adjusting his cap on his head, popping in his ear buds, turning up his tunes and walking to the door peaking out before opening it and walking out completely. He saw Spirit standing alone in the room not but ten feet from where he stood. _This man doesn't care…_ Law sadly thought, _he's only helping me because he feels guilty and because he just wants to clear his name of any irresponsible or selfish deeds._

"Ready?" Spirit questioned, he had forced a smile on his face, but seeing the boy only created guilt to fill him to the brim once again.

Reading his lips the guillotine gave a quick nod, "Yeah. I am…"

Once Justin had reached his side he followed behind him, walking to his right a bit. He didn't want to walk at the boy's side, fearing people might think they were together, a couple, or something… but he also didn't want to walk directly behind him, after all that might look a tad bit awkward.

The two deathscythes made their way through Shibusen's corridors most kids ignoring them but some occasionally stopping to say hello to the Heroes, especially Justin, who was rarely seen around Death City.

When they rounded a corner, Spirit's heart nearly stopped, his blood ran cold and for a second he thought he might pass out. Right there, walking towards them, was non-other than his former technician and… somewhat good friend Stein-kun. He felt his body come to a halt, his mouth going dry. Earlier he had tried to get the truth out of him… W-what if he found out! What if Justin told him!

Noticing Spirit had stopped following Justin turned and walked the couple steps back to the red-head. "S-Senpai, are you arlight?" he squeaked a little when he suddenly felt a hand clasp on his shoulder.

"He's fine Justin-kun. This is a normal reaction when he sees me…" a grim scowl appeared on Stein's lips, his glasses gleaming a bit, and suddenly the priest understood Spirit's response. "Come on Senpai.. Snap out of it. You act like you're trying to hide something from me… I told you before I _do not_ like secrets."

Justin looked up at and between the two men, trembling a little before backing out from under Stein's grip, when he had emphasized the do not, he swore he felt stein's grasp on his scrawny shoulder tighten threateningly. What was going on…? Was Spirit in some sort of trouble with Stein-Hakase too? He stood back allowing space for them, and Stein took a step closer to his former and soon to be current weapon.

"I—I…" he gulped and took a deep breath attempting to calm himself, "I… I told you I will inform you eventually… N-Now is really not the time…" He gave a quick worried glance over at Justin before looking back into those olive green eyes of the Professor.

"I want to know what's going on…" He followed the older man's gaze when he looked toward Justin, but instead of looking back at Spirit, his eyes stayed fixed on the young Priest. "…Senpai… Is Justin a part of it…?" His eyes began to narrow… The way Spirit was acting… What Spirit had asked about men getting pregnant… had…. Had Spirit had sex with this boy…? THAT WAS IT! "SENPAI! YO—YOU-!!--" His glance shot deadly back toward the red-head, but where he was when Stein looked away before, he was no longer.

The scythe had taken Stein's distraction as his chance to get away, he grabbed Justin's arm and had ran down the hall in a hurry, wanting to get away as fast as possible. "I—I promise I—I will explain!! I—I have a good reason! R—Really!"

"S—Spirit---! S—Slow down! Please!" Justin cried nearly being dragged behind him.

However Albarn didn't slow his pace not until he had reached the death room and slammed the heavy door behind them. They both rested there, panting heavily from there unexpected form of exercise. "S—spirit…w-what was t-th-that all about…?"

Shaking his head the man simply replied breathlessly, "N-nothing. Don't worry about it."

The both of them then began forward, walking under the guillotine hallway before at last they reached that platform where Shinigami-sama stood, gazing into his seemingly magical mirror. Noting the presence of his two deathscythes he turned a bit before bouncing fully around to face the two men. "Oh-hoh~! What a pleasant surprise~!" The Death God trilled, "Jasu, Spirito~! What brings you both here?"

For a while neither answered, a few glances were exchanged but for the most part the two weapons kept their eyes glued to the floor. "J-…Justin would you like me to explain…?"

Once again silence. The black deformed figure of the god swayed back and forth as he waited patiently. At last Justin shook his head, implying that he would find the courage to explain the interesting news he had for the school's headmaster. When Justin looked up at the god, he surprisingly removed his earbuds and Shinigami-sama could see his eyes were wide and his face was absent of any color. He questioned if the boy would be able to explain before he passed out.

"…. Kamio-Sama… I…." Justin clutched at his sides holding himself as he tried his best to just let those words slip past his tongue.

Meanwhile Spirit still hung his head not wanting to look up; he didn't even want to listen… The red-haired man almost wished he could snatch Justin's iPod from him and cram those headphones into his own ears and hide from the sounds of the world, but he listened. He forced himself to. And at last those words once again came.

"I---…I'm pregnant…."

Shinigami-sama had stopped swaying momentarily mentioning, "Well… Isn't that a surprise~!" Before swinging back and forth again, and though he did seem to have some shock to his voice it didn't seem realistic… almost like he had already known. "Who's the other lucky parent?"

"S-Se-Senpai…" The name rolled off Justin's tongue so quietly he almost was afraid that he might have to repeat himself, and he wasn't entirely sure if he could.

"B—But…. But I'm not Gay!" Spirit quickly informed, almost a little too quickly. But honestly, how could he be? He had been married before… to a _woman_. He spent his days down at Chuppa Cabras surrounding himself with _women_. He wasn't gay. He couldn't be. At least that was never what he had intended. The thought hadn't even crossed his mind before that one night with Justin. And that wasn't even love! It was just… a strong, overpowering, sexual desire. "I—I just…"

The Death God tilted his head at his Deathscythe, he was acting awfully guilty.

The guillotine glanced back and forth between the two as they talked, sure, Spirit had claimed not to be gay, and quite frankly Law wouldn't have thought he was, at least not until that night when he tried to do a good deed for the older man and it only turned into a horrific evening. Sure, Azusa had told him some rumors about Spirit and Stein having some sort of affair, but he had never believed it.

"I…I was drunk…. A-and the alcohol disoriented m-my mind… I—It also kind of got me into that mood… y—you know how it is whe--"

"Please don't continue Spirit-kun…" Shini-sama interrupted sweat dropping a little, his mask even appearing to take on an uneasy expression. He really didn't need to know the details.

"Y—Yes… Sir…" He paused a moment before continuing on with the matter that they came for. "Anyway, the reason why we're here really… Is to tell you that Justin will have to be out on maternity leave… Nygus forbids him from working."

"Well isn't that an inconvenience…" The Death God said, and while his voice still sounded upbeat it also sounded full of thought. "Justin-kun~?" The black deformed figure turned toward the boy, "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

Law snapped to attention, putting his full focus to his beloved god. "I—I'd love to, K-Kamio-sama!"

Glaring at the young man all Spirit could think of was how much of a suck up the kid was. He folded his arms across his chest then looked down at his feet, listening in, but otherwise not caring to glance at the others.

"When did you two have your... intercourse…?" The God paused noticing the slightly disturbed and awkward face that grew on Justin's visage. "E—er… Rather, how far are you along in your…pregnancy…?"

Silence. When was that date…? He was kind of afraid to think about it. He had tried to block that night out of his head so much now that he had nearly forgotten the day. After a few more moments of nothing but stillness Shinigami-sama continued, "Was it voluntary…?"

The red head flinched at this question, his heart nearly stopping. He was in trouble now. Thoughts of possible punishments rolled through his head. A Demotion… Jail time, God the list could go on. Although he probably deserved it, he wouldn't deny that. Sure, he would be pissed if that kid ratted him out, but he knew he was just doing what was right. Speaking the truth to his God, and bringing justice to the crime he had committed.

"Yes…Y-yes it was voluntary…" Justin spoke in not but a whisper, he sounded ashamed, embarrassed… But most of all it sounded truthful. Apparently he was a good liar. However both the Deathscythe's knew it wasn't the truth. Even the Death God knew that was false, he knew that was false from the moment it had happened, but he wouldn't press the matter, otherwise he might seem suspicious.

The boy gulped before casting his eyes downward. "I—I… I got carried away… a—and-" His whimpering suddenly took on a loud cry as he threw his arms out toward his God and knelt on the ground. "I—I SWEAR! I—I WILL NEVER DRINK AGAIN!! NEVER!"

"mmmhhhmmmm… wellllll…. Alright. That was all I wanted to know~!" Shini-sama trilled.

A sudden feeling of guilt settled in on Spirit. He almost wished the priest would have told him the truth. He lied to the God he seemed so terribly devoted to, just to save his ass from jail. He committed a crime, and the victim covered for him. At this rate he would owe Justin for the remainder of his life. Spirit then snapped from his thoughts when he heard Shinigami's voice once again. "Oh, and Spirito-kun~! You and Stein will be filling Justin's place until he can go back to work. You'll be travelling frequently, however you also will be allowed home while you are not out on missions."

The Deathscythe nodded, "That's understandable…"

Filling his spot? Justin suddenly became frightened. He would never want Spirit to take his place. Sure he was the strongest Deathscythe, and sure, he would have a meister, shibusen's strongest too. But a certain drunkard seemed to always find him when he was out on his missions. W—What if he found Spirit and Stein…? What if they didn't come back? He didn't want Spirit to be killed! Even if he did something so horrible as to rape him. He wrapped his arms around himself, clutching his sides.

"Well then.. if that's all, then I will be attending to other matters now. Saturday you're work outside of the country will begin, Spirito~! We'll discuss this more when you come in tomorrow morning."

Once again the red-head nodded before turning. He even found his hand reaching out to grasp Justin's, but he quickly brought it back before it was about to touch his. Spirit's glance quickly shot down, a sudden fear punching through his chest, his face flushing a bit as well. He hoped to God the kid didn't see that, though it was most likely that he did.

The Guillotine, had in fact been watching Spirit's hand even before he had reached out for him. His eyes widened a little when he saw that large palm move out towards his, but he tried to remain calm and not fret. Thank goodness he didn't, because the elder deathscythe moved his hand away before he could grab his. Law gave a final glance toward his God, a bit of a worried look on his features, before looking at Spirit and turning to walk with him.

"I'll take you to my place, so you can get yourself comfortable." Spirit mentioned quietly.

"I'd appreciate that…" A shy voice replied.

The two men stepped down the stairs that led to the academy and toward Spirit's appartment. By now Albarn had stuffed his hands into his pockets, making sure they wouldn't involuntarily try to reach out and touch Justin in anyway. The last thing he needed was the freak the guillotine out more or make him feel more uncomfortable than he already was. He wanted to patch up and heal the mental scaring he had brought upon Justin. He didn't want him to think wrongly of his senpai.

"Sooo… erm…How are you feeling…?" The scythe hated awkward silences, but he also hated trying to come up with conversations. They reminded him of the difficult times when he fumbled to find words to talk to his daughter.

Justin had put his ear buds back in by this point, but thanks to Spirit's struggle to spit out his words at first, his 'sooo' had given him a warning to look up and read his lips. "O-Oh…. my stomach hurts a bit… and I'm hungry for pickles… But I'm fine." He had to admit, he was rather frightened now. Last time he had been to Spirit's house, he was dragged into a nightmare. And now, he was being invited back, and going willingly.

The man couldn't help but chuckle at what Law had said. "Aww, and so the cravings begin… I have some back at home, so not to worry… I remember when Kami was craving when she was pregnant with Maka…" As the flashbacks came back, so did the horrific memories of a cranky and emotional pregnant women…. Perhaps a pregnant man would be more bearable..? He could only hope so.

Soon they were at his apartment; Spirit unlocked the door, and allowed Justin to step in before him. Once again the quiet had settled in, and desperately the older man searched through his brain for something to say. "er.... Y-You'll be staying upstairs. Your room in the first one on the right, and the next door would be the bathroom otherwise... I trust you know your way around?"

The seventeen year old simply nodded without saying anything else.

"…It is getting late... maybe you should go ahead and get cleaned up... in the mean time I'll head over to the church and get the rest of your stuff..." He paused, to see if Justin would object, and when he didn't he continued, "it's the old church on the west end of town, correct?"

"Just...." The priest started but stopped reorganizing his thoughts, "You can tell Sister Frannie and Father Matthew that I won't be around a lot. That I'll be staying at a friend's place, and that you're coming to collect my things." He looked down for a moment, seeming to search for anything else to say that might be of importance. "If you say that...they'll show you my room. Mention my name when you speak of me, and they'll trust you."

"Alright. W-when I get back... I'll start dinner... so be thinking of what you want..." He paused, his eyes catching a glance of the refrigerator, and the little piece of paper that he had taped on it so long ago for Maka, just in case she needed to call him if there was ever an emergency. "If you need m-me... I-I have my cell phone... the number is on the fridge..."

"Thank you…. I do appreciate this…"

Adjusting his tie and straightening out his jacket from his uneasiness Spirit replied, "O--Of course. Y--You're welcome.. I-it would be unfair of me to make you go through this on your own..." And with that he turned, and headed back to the door he had just entered only moments ago.

Justin watched, but remembering one more thing he hesitantly called out, "S-Senpai….?"

"Hmm…?" He faced the door, but had turned his head just enough to get a glimpse of the curly blonde standing behind him.

"When y-you come back…" A tinge of pink washed over Justin's still boyish features, "will you help me think of some names..?"

The scythe couldn't help but smile, and he quickly turned his head forward, hoping Justin would not see this. Was… it wrong to sort of be somewhat excited about the new life? Especially when it was a product of such a horrible act, and had thus far only created suffering…. "Of course." His voice was flat; it expressed neither excitement nor discomfort.

He began walking toward the door again, grasping the knob and turning the handle before walking through. Only when he was about to shut the door did he mention. "I… Kind of like the name, Jordon." Click. The door had shut.

Justin stared a moment at the wood of the door, his face flushing a little more. He was surprised Spirit had already mentioned a name. Had he already been thinking of names? Was Spirit trying to hide the fact that he was actually excited about the baby? The Priest could only wonder.

Somewhere along in those nine months Justin forgave Spirit, and eventually began to look forward to the birth of his child. Spirit soon finding that he didn't regret the night he had raped Justin, now was looking forward to his new, very original family. The two grew closer with every passing day; the awkwardness completely vanished and was replaced by a warm flutter that hung in the men's chests. Were... they falling in love? Soon phone calls were being made when they weren't by each other's side, letters were sent when one was off traveling, and every moment apart was agonizing.

The day had at last come, and when Justin's time grew small, Spirit was at his side ready to comfort and help him along. After an hour or so of cries and screams, a difficult cesarean section, and his hand numb from Justin's squeezes, Spirit at last heard the cries of a new born innocent child as it entered the cruel world. It was a boy, his hair a bit curly like Justin's, but the distinct red like his own. Only catching a short glimpse of the baby before their doctor, who actually ended up being Franken Stein, took him away, the two were unable to see many other characteristics.

Once making sure that Justin was well, Spirit went to find his new son. He came across the nursery and pushed his face up against the glass peering into the room searching for the little boy. It wasn't hard, there were only four babies currently in there, three girls, and the one boy, his boy, wrapped up in the little soft blue blanket. The name 'Jordon Law Albarn' was written on a card in the cradle like space he rested in. This sight brought tears to his eyes. He was a father, no, _the_ father, of Justin's child. And now thinking about it, he wouldn't want it any other way. It was then he decided, Justin was who he wanted to be with for the rest of his life. No, not because he _had _to help take care of the baby, but because he _wanted_ to. He _wanted_ to spend his life with the other Deathscythe, he _wanted_ to raise this new life. Wiping the tears that streamed from his eyes he walked back to Justin's room, lying down on the propped up bed beside the exhausted man wrapping him up in his arms.

Justin glanced over at Spirit, his eyes barely open as he was hardly awake. He didn't say a word, but didn't resist from this act of affection either. In fact he let his head rest on the older man's shoulder.

There was a long stretch of silence as the two laid there, both their eyes eventually closing, however neither falling asleep, just enjoying the presence of one another. Finding the courage to admit something Spirit wanted to say for so long now, to say it with actual meaning to his words this time around, he did so, "I love you Jasu, I really do."

--------------

As the memory got foggy, it started to vanish again. All those moments, everything that happened. It was all receding again.

Spirit breathed in deeply and attempting to squeeze his eyes shut tighter. He didn't want the fond memories to end there. Turning on his side Mr. Albarn pulled Justin, his friend, his best comrade and caring partner into his arms.

Still with his eyes closed he silently listened, for now, both of them could easily rest.

Well, at least that was the case for Justin. Spirit couldn't relax. No, his memories only made him want to work harder and regain all that happiness they had at once held onto.

He had to get ready. He had to wake up, make a little breakfast and get themselves going again. He couldn't linger any longer. They were so close, he could _feel_ it.

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**Chapter by: Sporkie with some assistance by Wolf**


	11. In desperate need of a drink

_Sorry we're a few days behind schedule on this chapter. It took not only a long time to write, but it took quite a while to scour through and edit. Apologies, everyone! Enjoy the chapter! This is very long and, due to graphic gore imagery and language, this chapter is NOT intended for younger readers. _**- Wolf**

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_Jesus, Wolf…. Your chapter is over 9,00-- …_

_IT'S OVER 9,000!!!!! [words]_

_Sorry I had to. Anyway, Enjoy People!_

**-Sporkie**

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**Chapter 10: In desperate need of a drink**

While the loving Deathscythe laid in his hotel room, reminiscing on his past memories with the young guillotine weapon, a different sort of play was unfurling. On the outskirts of a all but ghostly town that had survived on the still tried and true jobs of mining and harvesting wood, there lay an expansive mass of woods. Nestled within the clustering mass of overgrown ivy, wayward trees and straggly bushes was an abandoned warehouse.

In it's prime the building had been used for mining and lumber yard work. It's sheer archaic brilliance in design made it not only a homely piece of building but quite a inviting and warm one. Now it looked all but ghastly with what the years of abandonment, misuse and the never ending whiplash of nature's own corrosion. It was cracked in some areas, the once white pristine exterior of the cement now soured and yellowed with age. Long tendrils of tangled ivy snaked and crept their way along the sides of the building and, one could almost say, they looked like gnarled, menacing green arms that were reaching out to grab the building and pull it back down to hell.

Overall, this description of the misused, abused and quite intimidating building that cast it's looming shadow down upon the forest would be correct save for that, for the first time in a two centuries or so, it was in_ use_. It's new occupying guest's intentions were not that of creation, but of destruction.

Deep within the almost catacomb exterior of the lower basement of the building rested a room. Within that said room lounged a very disgruntled, very bored and extremely hung over heretic.

Giriko Sou couldn't understand why he had been sent on this duty. As he lay there, his tall and gangly form sprawled on (almost to the point he was halfway in sliding off) a torn and musty couch, he tried running through his head the possible reasons why that blasted Kishin, Asura, was torturing him so.

The man needed a drink. He needed to be alone. He hated being around _anyone _when he had been on a drinking binge the previous night before. When waking up from a whiskey hangover, the only thing he wanted to do was drown himself more with whiskey, beer, schnapps-- anything in order to completely wipe his memory clean and lubricate him, making him feel good from head to toe.

The saw weapon had always been a picky man. He had loved drinking, unleashing his anger on the world and feeling dominate over everyone else. It had always been his trademark to be holed up in some bar, a bottle of beer sticking out of his mouth as he proceeded to beat the living daylights out of some poor thug that had looked at him the wrong way. He had loved these elements that sculpted and made his life, but with every list of likes came a definitive list of _dislikes_.

The man abhorred old ladies, rules, formal occasions and the idiots running around Shibusen. He had hated Mosquito ("that ass kissing old geezer of a Butler"). Most importantly, though, he absolutely despised the idea of an organized religion of any sort. Waking from a heavy hitting hangover, he just as much as he despised religion as much as he loathed that idiotic dog of a Priest, Justin Law.

Above all, however, he loathed _kids._

"Mweister Gwiriko?"

Giriko, even with his eyes closed as he lounged back on that sofa, could imagine the snot nosed brat standing right beside him. He could imagine those blank bright blue eyes of the boy and it more than all reminded the heretic about that damnable Priest. He clenched his sharpened teeth and a vein twitched in his temple. Why he had to be reminded of that annoying clergyman, he hadn't a clue. He'd rather forget about the young man, or kill him just to make him vanish from his life, forever.

He tried rolling over on his back, but he soon felt the pokes and prods of the boy's small fingers. Grinding his teeth against each other, he inwardly flinched as another wave of nausea surged upwards, chasing after his migraine. He had to remember to graciously murder the Kishin in thanks for his babysitting job for today.

A tiny sigh escaped the boy's lips and he squared his shoulders, determined to get the man up. With a sharp prod to the nape of Giriko's neck he had succeeded in making the man's muscles spaz in reaction, causing the heretic to jerk and sit up.

Snarling viciously, Giriko whirled back around and, perching on the edge of the couch, he grabbed the boy by the arms. Tightly squeezing, he hoped his anger would cut off the child's circulation. Shoving his face right into the boy's, he spat out, "what the _hell _do you _want_? Can't you see I'm trying to take a goddamn nap over here!?"

The boy, almost un-phased with the man's tantrum, blinked in response. He wasn't showing fear, and this infuriated the heretic even more. Sure enough, that physics defying miracle of a child ( the one oddly born from two men) truly did take after his fathers.

Shaking with rage, the saw weapon's face slowly turned a flustered red. Staring into those emotionless eyes of the boy wasn't scaring him, but it was bringing back old memories of a different time, different place. "Well?!"

Innocently pouting, the child sighed. Crossing his tiny arms over his chest, he looked up at the threating older weapon. "I'm bwored, mweister Gwiriko.

God, how he hated hangovers and kids. He was in desperate need of a drink, right now.

Groaning, the man held his head for a moment. He had to think. He knew he had to occupy the child's time, and he knew his duties for today was only fair; yesterday the boy had been Asura's constant company. He knew the Demon God dumping this anxious and curious bundle of everlasting energy was only payback for him yesterday shoving the boy into the Kishin's care in the first place.

Watching the heretic lapse into a mulling silence, Jordon Albarn let out another sigh. He was now on the verge of tears thanks to his boredom. Looking around, his tiny hands clasped together, he examined the room.

From the early hours of the morning he must have been shoved in this room. Waking a few hours later, he noticed that the saw weapon was residing in the same room. This, of course, gave him someone to talk to and, being such a social little bug that he was, he had wanted to wake the man up.

The room had seen better days. Apparently used for Giriko's drinking binges, there were obvious signs of pent up anger being released in the past. There were long gouges and cuts had been dug into the wall until, in areas, chunks of the plaster had been ripped away; broken chairs with the forms smashed, so the splintered wood was heaped in piles; shards of twinkling glass from broken and smashed beer bottles that coated the ground, giving the illusion of freshly fallen snow.

The walls were barren and, in a way, it gave off that tarnished look of some insane asylum from some sort of cheesy horror movie. Besides for that one lone torn up sofa that Giriko was using, there was only a musty and moth eaten rug (that lay under a wobbly, gnarled table) and a cot that the boy had been using as his own little bed.

Climbing up on the sofa, Jordon felt the springs underneath the fabric pop a little. Adjusting himself so he sat right beside the weapon, he swung his legs back and forth over the edge so his heels hit the furniture. "I wanna do swomewhing wid yew, mwiester Gwiriko!"

Still holding his head, he spread his fingers a bit so they uncovered his glaring eye. That child was _really _getting on his last nerves. "What the hell do you mean, runt?"

Looking up at the man, he flashed a toothy grin. Pausing through giggles, he managed to squeak out, "I wanna pwray wit yew!"

Twitching with anger at those words, Giriko's eyes almost bugged out. He flailed, sputtering out an angered barrage of swear words. That son of the Priest was stupid enough to ask him if _he _wanted to _pray?!_ The very thought boiled his blood and he had to restrain himself from slapping the child along the mouth or, worse, just killing him to end the annoying situation so he could fall back asleep.

Poked and prodded with Jordon's little fingers once again, he had to swat the boy's hand away in order to keep his shoulder from getting sore. "Stop that!" He snapped, spitting out his words like acid. "There is no way in _hell_ that I'm going to pray to some stupid God! Not yours, not your idiotic dad's God-- no one's!"

Withdrawing his fingers and hands from pushing and poking Giriko, a look of resentment flashed over the boy's pouting face. What the man had said wasn't just mean towards his daddies and their choice of religion, but he was also given an answer to something he hadn't even asked for.

"No," Jordon said with a quivering lip. He was almost wailing by now. Big fat tears were starting to form, and he sniffled thickly. "I wanna pwray wid yew! Pwray, pwray...!"

"Jesus," Giriko hissed, seeing the boy start to cry. He looked away, his mouth straightened into a ticked off line. Hangover? Check. Kid? Check. Kid about to scream and wail and thus make his headache an incarnation of purgatory? Double check.

"I wanna pwray house oor dwrinos wid yew!"

A light bulb finally switched on in the dazed and alcohol drugged heretic's mind. He wasn't saying 'pray'! The boy, with his lack of basic control over his noun and word sounding made everything just sound wrong, incorrect. Since he wasn't saying 'praying', he had actually wanted to 'play' with him!

"Tch," Giriko grumbled, looking down at the shrimp that sat next to him on the sofa. "Ya mean 'play'. You wanna 'play' somethin', right?"

Vigorously nodding, Jordon sniffled. He quickly wiped his eyes with his arm, happy that the man had understood him after all. Perhaps he wasn't that stupid as he had seemed. After all, his Papa and Daddy knew exactly what he was saying at any given time.

"God," Giriko said, turning his head to direct his glare to the room instead. "You really need to work on speakin' correctly. I can't even understand ya. To me it's like you're talkin' some shitty--"

"Dun cwruse!"

Startled, Giriko blinked. Turning his head back to the kid he saw that the boy had stood up on the cushion and, stretching his arm up, was wagging a finger in his face. "Wha' the hell?"

A bit angrier, Jordon screwed his face rather comically into what he hoped was a scowl. He grabbed Giriko's wide hand and slapped it. It didn't hurt the man, but the action made him growl dangerously.

"What did you just do?" Snapped Giriko. He jerked his hand from the boy's grasp.

"Dwaddy and Pwapa always told mweh never to cwurse. Thwey said it was bwad an...an..." He paused, putting a small finger to his chin. Sitting back down, he continued to swing his legs back and forth. His face was a comical mock up of one who was deep in serious thought. "Thwey said... dat 'Kwamio-shama would bwe sad if we cwursed all thwe twiem.' "

Wrinkling his nose, Giriko just stared down at the child. In a way he pitied him. At such a young age, he could tell he was brainwashed by Shinigami-sama and his comical troupe. No doubt his loyal Deathscythe dad and equally loyal but religiously idiotic... other _dad_... decided to ingrain that love for the God into his mind at an early age.

Watching the boy, Giriko noticed how bright and curious the child was. Staring into those eyes, he was reminded of that blasted Priest but, at the same time, he saw an unmistakable intelligence and a need to know what was all around him. A smile spread across the heretic's cracked lips. _Perhaps this kid isn't so bad,_ he thought to himself. _After all, he had some balls slapping me like that. Jesus, I could easily rip him apart, and now I see this kid has no fear around me._

Startled at what he had just realized, Giriko felt his cheeks get hot with a sort of flush. This kid wasn't afraid of him. All this time- since he had awoken within his current living ancestor- Giriko Sou had realized that no one wanted to be around him. They were instantly frightened of him. He had always hated that about his form, before he had taken over. That young man in that comely Golem village had so many friends, and he always shone with a brilliant sort of friendly light. The second Giriko took over this man's body and used it as his own, all the man's past friends shirked from him, shying away until, one by one, they left him from sheer terror.

Perhaps this is why the man drowned himself in his ocean of whiskey night after night. Perhaps this is why he screamed, ranted, cursed and swore. Perhaps this man was building a defense, turning to the path of hatred to make up for the fact that he had found no one to understand him, let alone want to be around him.

That was, until now.

Glancing back down at the young boy, Giriko was surprised to see Jordon eagerly looking back up at him. Scowling, trying to mask his smile, he reached out and roughly ruffled his hair. "Yer not so bad, twerp."

Smiling, Jordon let out a little giggle. His fathers' stories about this terrifying 'heretic' seemed all wrong. How could this guy be 'evil' and 'dangerous'?

For a while, Giriko sat with Jordon, trying to figure the young child out. However, the silence was soon interrupted by a low, almost inaudible rumble of sorts. Jumping a little, startled, the chainsaw for a moment had thought the HQ had been found out and was under attack. One glance at Jordon, though, solved the problem.

The boy was looking down at his stomach.

A moment of dread washed over the man. He was an adult who had never dealt with kids for more than twenty seconds. He had no idea what kids liked to eat, let alone what they _could _eat. He gulped, forcing a watery smile out. "Hungry, twerp?"

Nodding, Jordon gazed up at the taller, older man. His blue eyes were pleading, and another low rumble was heard. "I'm vweary hwungrwy. I nwever hwad bweakfwast..."

Running a filthy hand through his scruffy crop of hair, the man sighed. What the hell was he to do? He had to find something for the kid to eat. Getting up, only pausing to crack his spine in a stretch, he ambled lazily on over to his growing pile of debris and garbage. Sticking a hand into the mess, he riffled through it until he produced a unopened bottle of beer.

Turning around, he held the bottle up by it's neck, tilting it ever so slightly so a dim shaft of light fell on it and illuminated the brown glass casing. "Ever have one of these for shits and giggles?"

Shaking his head with a fervor, the boy giggled. Continuing his pattern of swinging his legs back and forth, so his heels hit the couch, he flashed a boyish grin. "No, swilly! I cwan't dwink thwat. Dwaddy says it's bwad fer mweh, an' Pwapa says it mwakes you do thwings you regwess wawter on."

"'Regress'?" Blinking, remembering the boy's strange child-like lisp in his language, he realized the boy had meant 'regret'. He had to snicker, since it was so ironic his manlier father, Spirit, would be the one to say that considering all the times he had pounced upon a mass of wily females over his lifetime while plastered. "Oh, I see." Dropping the bottle back into the pile, he heard the resounding clink as it clunked against something blunt and hard. His gaze roving back around the room, he stood there at a loss. "Twerp... what do kids your age eat? You know, yer age group is so fuckin' hard to understand with what you like."

Opening his mouth, Jordon was about to speak but his voice died away in his throat. Only a strangled squeak of fear escaped him, and his eyes became large with terror. He backed up on the couch, cowering in the corner and practically clinging to the armrest.

Seeing the reaction, he waved his hand back and forth quickly. "W-What's wrong? Was it because I swore? Jesus, brat, you're going to have to-"

"It's not that," came a low, but silkily smooth voice from behind Giriko.

Instantly the man tensed up. He knew that voice all too well. He had heard it from the shadows of this godforsaken place. No matter where the heretic went, this man- no, _creature_ was more like it- always seemed to stalk him from the back of his mind.

Looking over his shoulder, he scowled, watching Asura as he leaned against the wall. "What the _hell _are you doing here? I thought ya dumped the kid on me to get away from him, and here you're fuckin'--"

"Ah, ah," the Kishin silkily drawled, wagging his finger. "_Language_, my dear Giriko! You have to behave for the poor little child, lest you cause him to get depressed from the frantic swearing and screaming often heard coming from you." Pausing, he stuck out his tongue, licking the side of his lips daintily. "After all," he said, taking a dark pleasure into whispering his words so low that only the chainsaw could hear. "Human children have _such_ fragile minds and bodies."

Spitting a wad of his distaste for the Kishin on the pile of garbage that was steadily accumulating, he stepped aside so the monster could approach Jordon. His gaze flickered over to the young child, and he felt an odd emotion. Watching that poor boy sob and tremble with the absolute grasp of fear made him hurt inside.

_Wait, what? No! _Giriko shook his head. He tried to block out his feelings with his thoughts._ I am _not_ feeling this-- I'm still drunk from the night before, and it's making me feel weird. I am _not_ feeling pity for this damn byproduct of those two annoying-as-hell men!_

Approaching the child, the Demon God cooed darkly. Reaching out with his hand, he stopped only a few inches away from him. He saw Jordon flinch upon sight of the bony, pale hand coming at him, and the boy cowered even more.

With big fat tears beginning to trickle down his face, Jordon let out a little frightened whimper. His large blue eyes darted from the morbidly gaunt Demon God to the heretic residing in the room, and he felt his mouth get dry from the fear that was grappling with his soul. "M—Mweister G—G-Gwiriko...!"

Hearing his name called out with the need to be held in a comforting hug, the independent chainsaw weapon couldn't deny that he felt his heart stop beating for a few seconds. Turning to face the back of the Kishin who was now towering over the boy, he snarled.

"Jordon," Asura continued to coo, his eyes gleaming menacingly. "Are you going to cooperate with me today? Or, do you want to go back into the 'cage' for some 'time out'?"

Hearing those words, Jordon let out a cry that ripped through the air. His tears flowed freely now, and his cheeks were flushed. He covered his eyes with his tiny hands, his shaking so violent that it almost seemed he was on the verge of having a seizure.

"H-Hey, now," Giriko growled, trying to mask his concern for the boy. "Don't fuckin' scare him to the point he has a goddamn heart attack!"

"Jordon," the Kishin hissed smoothly as he slapped down his hand on top of the boy's crop of messy red hair. He slowly dug his dirty fingernails into the crop of hair, his fingers raking against boy's scalp. He laughed, hearing the boy squeak with terror. "Little, little Jordon..."

Flushing a hue of red from the sheer embarrassment of being ignored, Giriko clenched his teeth, making them resemble more like the toothy maw of a chainsaw itself. Being who he was, he had quite a huge hubris; his ego was rather large, and he always had felt that he wanted to be the dominate ruler in his life. However, he had always despised being ignored, and that had always been what irked him the most about Jordon's 'daddy', Justin Law. Asura was doing the same thing to him as Justin had in the past, and his rage and defiance was building even more. He hate always hated his power getting punted about.

Puffing out his chest a little, crossing his arms in intimidation, he spat out a spiteful, "did ya even _hear_ me!?"

Asura bent down, staring down at the top of the child's head. His eyes may have burned calmly, but his smile was twisted and diabolically maniac. He let two of his scarf tendrils to lift up off the floor, creeping to life. The rose like sleepy cobras, one poised on each side of the boy.

Seeing this, Giriko knew something was up. He took a few steps forward before he mentally stopped himself. He was a villain, not a good guy. He hated kids, not liked them. Therefor, him acting the way he currently was seemed so illogical.

With a flash of white linen, and a cry of surprise, Asura had struck.

Giriko had to gulp back the lump caught in his throat, hoping that he could push down his heart that had seemed to magically jump out of his chest. He stared on, gazing up at the child as Asura lifted him up, using his scarves as his extra pair of arms.

Held up by the arms, Jordon stared down at the God, sobbing and howling in his tormented anguish. He looked drained, weak and fragile. In one aspect, he looked as if he was pinned to an imaginary cross of fate, and Asura was attempting to break him down mentally.

Giriko blinked, his face draining of all color. He had known the Kishin could be cruel, but to a child this age? Then again, he knew that monster had bathed in so much of his mental fear that he had pretty much drowned in it, loosing all sense of right and wrong. To Asura, whether his enemies were a mere baby breathing in life for the first time or a decaying man, breathlessly taking in his final gulps of oxygen for the last time, all were his prey.

Watching the child like a panther in the shadows, ready to strike at a moment's notice, the Demon God let an invisible coil of madness slither out of him and seep into the child's mind. The boy, in response to this sludgy, poisonous mental assault of imagery started to thrash in panic.

"Now, now," the God chattered, his teeth flashing in a crazed, maniacal smirk. He let his head roll lazily to the side, his eyes never leaving his target. "Are you going to finally tell me where you parents are currently? Or, are we going to have to keep trying, every day, until you finally give in and tell or, well, break?"

The boy howled and shrieked, thrashing against his bonds as his mind was assaulted by the horridly pestilent imagery of Asura's insanity. At such a young age he was barely aware of what the word 'death' truly entailed. He tried to make sense of what was happening and, even though he may not have fully understood the imagery and horrendous scenes of carnage at it's primal climax as it whipped by his brain, he at least understood the concept that what he was witnessing was 'bad'.

_People were dying in Jordon's mind. They were in pain, crying out for Jordon to help them. He saw the ruins of the place where Papa worked-- Shibusen, wasn't it? He saw chunks and pieces of the structure strewn about. A red liquid- much like paint- carpeted the pavement. He saw people scrunched up in pain, appearing as if they were sleeping..._

"MWAKE IT STWOP!"

Asura merely cackled, swinging the boy back and forth from the two scarf tendrils that had latched onto his small little arms. He was enjoying this response, and he could see the boy's soul begin to waver and crack in panic.

_Behind Jordon's shut eyes, he was seeing people he knew and liked on the ground, wailing in agony. He saw a few stuck on pole and broken pieces of the building's structure. Their clouded eyes were glazed over, and the same red liquid that was covering the ground was dribbling from their gaping, broken maws._

Giriko starting to grind his razor sharp teeth together, making them resemble nothing less than the grounding rows of a chainsaw's rotating blade. Asura was going way too far. At this point Jordon would suffer a failing heart. He could already sense a shift in Jordon's aura, and he could tell that the poor, fragile boy was beginning to falter.

_The turmoil continued to brew within Jordon's mind. Stein-hakase was laying there, sprawled upon the cracked and broken shards of the school. He was coughing painfully, his eyes wild with pain and fear. His torso was ripped from his lower half, his entrails wrapped around his legs. The man was babbling nonsense as his body quickly went cold and numb. Beside him lay his weapon and often times savior, Marie-sensei. Her now ragged, dirty blond hair spilled about her, covering her half naked bosom. Chunks of her clothes had been ripped from her, tendrils of the material and cloth shredded about her like gauzy fallen wings of an angel. Her flesh was crimson, much like the fluid spilling out from Stein. What was this red stuff? What was it, what was it...?_

Jordon started to become paralyzed with fear. His muscles froze up on him, and his mouth dropped open in a silent scream. His heart was thudding erratically, slamming against his ribcage like a terrified canary giving one last ditch attempt at freedom before it died.

_The smoke was rising from the burning city. Raucous screams wavered in chorus, raking the air like gnarled claws upon a blackboard. Cries and gurgling coughs, it was all almost too much to handle. It had taken a little bit, but finally everything had hit Jordon where it hurt the most. The boy had, at least, learned what 'death' truly was. _

_People were hurt. People were bleeding. People were dying..._

Asura could see the boy's soul begin to flicker, dulling in color. He was close to snuffing out that stubborn soul of the boy, and he knew it. His mouth began to salivate, and suddenly the idea of eating that pure soul of the still young, innocent and virgin child seemed so much more appealing then getting his plan underway. He began to bring the boy closer to him, letting his hot puffs of breath blast the young boy in the face.

_Jordon screamed out in his mind. He fell to his knees, feeling the sticky blood splash up on him as he sat in that ever growing puddle. He reached out, grabbing onto a man's shredded suit jacket, the remaining material worn by the male darkened with splotched gore. Crawling even closer, his knees hidden beneath the crimson liquid, he flung himself to the two weakening bodies laying before him._

_He snuggled up against the injured men, clinging to the closest one desperately. Tears streamed down his face as he pounded on the chest of the man he clung to. Jordon was hyperventilating, pleading for them to wake up. He tried to hug close to both of them, to feel their now fading body heat to just to prove that they were still okay and not dying. _

"Asura!" Giriko growled dangerously. Enough was enough. He tried to suppress his feelings for the boy, but he had to play a fatherly figure for the innocent kid before he died. He knew he shouldn't care much about the strangely produced son of his fated enemy. He shouldn't care much about the son of a man he wanted more than ever to kill, just so he had the satisfying high of murder as he gazed down, cackling at the ravaged and mangled form of the priest.

The Demon God lazily looked over his shoulder, glaring at the chainsaw. He was annoyed that his fun time with his new toy- and possibly new meal- was being interrupted. He heavily sighed, his tone reflecting that he wasn't amused. "What _is_ it, Sou?"

_Jordon whimpered, pressing himself closer to the two men. He glanced up at the current one whom he was literally on top of, and he saw the haggard face of his Papa, Spirit. His body was literally soaked in blood, and everything below his waist had been ripped, or gnawed, off. There weren't any visible signs of where his legs were currently, but it was assured that he wouldn't live much longer- not with that much of a blood loss with or from the fact that his entire intestinal tract had been pulled from him . A red line wrapped around the man's neck, and Jordon could clearly see blood spurting and squelching from his slit jugular. He felt a spatter on his face, and he knew a goblet of blood had got him good. He sniffled thickly, looking towards his Papa's face one more time. The man's usually bright and lively emerald eyes were now gray; the light had already left them._

_"Pwapa?" Jordon's voice was soft, scared and dripping with fearful tears._

_Ever so slowly, Spirit turned his head and gave a pained, watery smile at his son. Even though his eyes were dead to the world, he still managed a small spark of love for his offspring to shimmer beneath the waves of his oncoming demise._

_Spirit couldn't speak, thanks to his throat being slit. He wanted to tell his son he loved him. He wanted to reassure to his frightened child that everything was going to be okay. It was a parent's duty to always keep the morale of their children up, despite the situation being at it's worst._

_"Pwapa," Jordon whimpered, laying his chin on Spirit's erratically rising and falling chest. He stared at his parent, his eyes misty with tears. "Yewer not gwunna leave mwe... rwight? Y—Yew said thwat, a long twime ago..."_

_Spirit's ghostly smiled faded with those words, and a trickle of blood began to creep down from his mouth. He opened it to say something, but another squelching squirt of blood from his jugular made his entire body involuntarily twitch and spaz._

_Jordon gasped, suddenly in a panic. "P-Pwapa?" _

_Spirit was getting colder by the second. His gaze moved up towards the heavens, and he let out a soft expelling of his breath in a sigh._

_"P—Pwapa! Pwapa!!" With his tiny shaking hand, Jordon began to shake Spirit's shoulder. He crawled up onto the man's chest, curling up into a fetal position, murmuring pleas for him to 'stop playing around' and to 'stop scaring me, it's not funny anymore'._

_As Jordon lay on top of his Papa, he felt his lovable parent's wheezing breath slowly come to a stop. Crying out, he once again slammed his small fists against his Papa's now seemingly hallow chest. "Pwapa...Pwapa! Y-Yew....Yew awre leavin' mwe! Y...Yew CAN'T! Yew said..." Tears started to roll down his dirty, scuffed up cheeks. He saw his Papa slowly close his eyes, one last breath escaping him. "YEW SAID YEW NWEVER WOULD!"_

"Will you fucking STOP already?!" Giriko snarled, taking a wrathful step towards the God. He pointed a grubby finger up at the boy, noting that tears were now streaming down his pallid face. "He's going through fucking mental seizures. Whatever the hell you're doing to him, he's going to die from traumatic shock."

"...And my problem is _what_, Giriko?" Asura replied coldly. He turned to face the man, his scarves still clasped around the boy as the madness began to effect his entire small body. "His parents might know we have their child, but they won't know if he's dead already. There's really no use to keep the boy living much longer."

"Geh," Giriko gulped, sucking in a breath. Asura had a point. Even if Jordon died right then and there, the parents would come to retrieve their beloved child. They'd still come into the trap and die. All three of them would be dead.

"Besides," Asura gave a satiny chortle, continuing with his previous rant. "He is the son of two famous Deathscythes. As far as I'm concerned, he should have been taught how to fight off madness. He's too soft, to easily broke." Curling his lip back into a sneer, he added. "He's a human meat sack, worthless to any cause to aid society since he can't fight off even the simplest waves of insanity._"_

_"J-Jor---don..."_

_The boy quickly twitched from fear, looking over at his Daddy. He let out another cracked wail, shutting his eyes against the scene. He clung tighter to his now deceased Papa, wishing that this was all just a bad dream._

_Justin laid there, a few feet away from Spirit, broken and battered. He laid flat on his back in the puddle of blood, his left arm limp against his side. The other arm, tragically, had been ripped from his body and flung off to the side. Blood was pooling out of his open wound, the stub of where his right arm once was._

_Most of Justin's bones throughout his lanky body had been broken, and he was paralyzed from the chest on down. Trails of blood leaked down from the corners of his mouth, and with each breathless wheeze Jordon could hear his Daddy's lungs gurgle as they filled with blood, drowning the priest slowly from the inside. In fact, Jordon could see the lungs, along with his Daddy's entire respiratory system, pretty much failing his younger parent because, due to the cruel wiles of fate, his chest had been literally ripped into. His lungs and throbbing, slowing down heart were clearly visible to the young boy. His Daddy's ribs had been broken back, pulled out of his body a little. His chest cavity had been invaded, and it was now a bloody gaping hole-- a portal into the inside of a human._

"Get the _fuck _offa him," Giriko nearly screamed, "or he's going to DIE!" He was bristling with hatred, and he was on the brink of doing nearly anything- irrational or not- just to get that boy down and keep him safe. This, of course, even meant that the saw was willing to take down the Demon God himself.

Studying the heretic, Asura narrowed his eyes. His odd pupils (Giriko swore they resembled eyes) dilated, and he scowled deeply. Giriko's soul was flaring with rage, but why? Glancing back up at the child, now limp in his scarves, he connected the pieces of the puzzle together. Giriko Sou, the manic chainsaw who hated everything and everyone around him, had finally found some sort of purpose in his life. Instead of the constant will to destroy, he had actually wanted to _protect_ the life of this hapless boy.

Now curious to study the relationship between the two, the Kishin realized that this bond may come to play the cards in his favor. If the independent weapon was growing attached to the boy, he wouldn't want to give him up easily. This would only fuel the man's wrath and paranoia against the parents, causing their plan to flow easier and assure an almost positive victory.

_"Dwaddy," Jordon whispered hoarsely. He was afraid to let go of Spirit lest his Papa sit up, breathing and alive once again, claiming everything was alright. The boy was still in denial. Hugging his Papa's corpse in a death grip, all Jordon could do was watch his remaining guardian and parent die an agonizing death. _

_"Jor---do-a---hnrkk--"_

_Justin's remaining hand twitched seconds before the man heaved, a ball of mixed bile and blood spewing out of his mouth. It plastered his remaining garb. His priest robes were now bloodied and shredded beyond recognition. He looked like some fallen martyr from on high, his once holy life now dashed asunder to the earth's soil, far beneath his much sought after heaven. It was as if he had been an angel and had fallen down, his heaven blocking him out, and he now lay there immersed in his agonizing suffering._

_Jordon screamed out, muffling his cries by burying his face in his Papa's ravaged clothes. He peeked out just enough to watch Justin's final moments. The boy priest was turning his head this way and that, trying to grab onto one final wisp of oxygen. He couldn't get a thing to flow into his damaged lungs, and , thusly, he was suffocating. He was drowning, and Justin could feel it. The bloodied vomit started to fill his mouth again, and he began choking on it. In sharp, painful hacks it spilled from his mouth, great globs dribbling down his chin._

Giriko saw the critical, examining look in the Kishin's eye. It made him uncomfortable, as if he was some specimen under this demon's petri dish. He got nervous, looking away. He knew he was acting like some mangy omega in a wolf pack by showing that the man before him was superior simply by not keeping eye contact with him, but he didn't care. He knew something was up. Asura only got that sadistic gleam in his eyes when he was up to something particularly sneaky.

"Fine," the Kishin drawled.

Silence rested in the room. Only the sounds of Jordon's faint breathless whimpers could be heard as he struggled to stay alive and fight the consuming madness.

Had Giriko heard correctly? Spitting a wad of clumpy saliva onto the floor, he warily glanced at the Demon God. "What do ya mean by _'fine'_?"

"Just as you were wanting me to stop, I will."

"What's the fuckin' catch? There's always some goddamn catch when it comes to sealing one of _your _deals."

"Only one condition, Giriko."

Scrunching up his nose in disgust, he scoffed. Of course there was a condition. Giriko knew he wasn't going to save the child and rob Asura out of a meal and get off free. This beast was truly a devil, making deals on the life of a child such as this.

_Justin's eyes rolled back, and all Jordon could see left in his Daddy was the shell of a parent he once held dear to, loved and respected. With one final choking heave for a breath, Justin let out a gurgling groan. Jordon watched as his Daddy's body went limp, one last river of blood snaking down his soiled mouth. His flesh was turning an ash color, with his spidery raised network of veins a icy blue thanks to the priest's cells being starved of oxygen._

_His blue eyes as wide as saucers, Jordon's vision became misty with his grief. Throwing back his head he howled, his tears falling freely and with a fervor. Both of his parents were dead, and he hadn't a single clue as to why or what had killed them._

_Suddenly he felt sick. He was scared to even be around his parent's deceased and ravaged forms. Bolting to his feet, he sloshed around in the now wider, and deeper, puddle of blood. The sticky fluid came up to his ankles, and he felt a new wave of terror clutch at him. _

_He glanced about him and shrieked out. It wasn't just the area around his parents flooded with blood. Oh, no-- the entire place was now seemingly an ocean of blood. He was standing in it, gazing out as far as he could to the horizon of the still burning city around him. _

_The torn and blasted buildings, the gnarled trees and metal skeletons of shops-- everything was dripping down blood as if Jordon was now in a desolate apocalyptic town filled with millions of miniature Niagara falls._

_Whirling around he screamed for help. He cried out, his tiny voice raked with grief. It sounded tinny even to his ears, as if he was submerged under the now forming lake of blood. His voice sounded ghastly, and it held a creaking undertone much like the swinging of a door on rusted hinges. He wanted out of there. He wanted to find safety but, most of all... he wanted his parents back._

_He tried to take another step, but he jerked back in a panic. He was rooted in place. Staring down at his legs, he found that he couldn't budge an inch despite nothing psychically holding him there. All he could see was a reflection in that crimson flood. Was something holding him down? Was it going to drag him under? He trembled, feverish tears streaming down his face._

_At first he saw himself in his reflection on the surface of the blood. He saw his scared face, pale as the moon's rays lighting the shadows that were often stalking the alleyways of Shibusen. His hair was mattered down with dirt, grim and blood. His shirt was soaked through with Spirit and Justin's gore- a mix of blood, particles of flesh and clothing. He opened his mouth to squeak out something, but a scream exploded forth instead._

_Starting like a ripple from his reflection's forehead, his form warped and shifted shape. As it settled back, all he saw was Asura's grinning visage, mockingly laughing back up at him._

"And what is this 'one condition', Kishin?"

Asura grinned, his smile warping in a twisted fashion. "Do you remember our previous deal, heretic?"

Giriko snorted. How could he forget? He was to keep an eye on what Noah, that obsessive collecting bastard, was doing. Asura was a bit worried that that man would want to try something like collect the Kishin himself, and he wanted this weapon to keep tabs on the menace.

That is, of course, were Giriko came in. Expendable to Asura, the God had found the weapon and decided that, in return for not infecting the man with madness or, well, simply killing him and ingesting his soul, he made Sou act as a sort of part time spy for him. He merely kept his eye on Noah from time to time, mainly whenever he started to move once again.

This already agreed on deal was the bartering tool for Jordon's safety? T_here has to be more than this, _Giriko thought. He could feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He glanced up at Jordon and noted he could no longer hear the boy's whispers and whimpering. In fact, the boy's head had rolled to one side, and his skin was going paler by the second.

There wasn't enough_ time _to delve into paranoia or pride, and Giriko had to make up his mind and fall blindly into what could have very well been a trick. Jordon was fading away, his heart thudding so hard that it was about to burst , quite literally, in his small chest. Whatever Asura was assaulting Jordon's mind with, it was doing it's trick to not only beat the child down but break him to the point of death.

"The deal with me just gettin' information on that human kleptomaniac's location from time to time, right?"

"Correct," the Kishin purred.

Blinking his hazel eyes, they clouded with worry, turning a dark chocolate color. He bared his teeth. "I already made that deal. We've been done with the details on that for a long time!"

"I'm now adding onto it."

Bristling with a seething rage, Giriko scowled. He hated extra work. True to form, the chainsaw was an extremely lazy man. More work meant he had to actually exert himself at his job. However, if it was to save this kid's life, then he'd rush, get it done and be through with it--- like always.

"And what exactly may that be?"

"I want you to do a very important thing to support my cause," Asura said, lowering his scarves a bit so the boy was now face to face with him once again. "I want you to befriend this child as if he was your own. I want you to teach him how life _really_ is."

_What shit is this? _Giriko thought. He felt himself gagging at the mere thought of him even having to adopt this runt. He _still _hated kids. He hated everything that went with them: snobby noses, vomiting, whiny cries and and a never ending need to be played with.

Then it hit Giriko like a brick being slung at his thick skull. Did the Kishin technically want Giriko to convert Jordon Albarn from his previous teachings? Did the demonic being want Giriko to corrupt the boy, influencing him so, possibly, later on down the line Jordon may come to an important crossroad?

Did Asura want Jordon to abandon his adoration for Shinigami-sama and worship him when the boy got older?

_A pain shot up through Jordon's body. He cried out, shrieking, as he began to thrash. Still rooted down in that spot, it felt like his body was literally on fire. Every inch of his skin prickled with heat, and his nerve endings screeched in an imaginary inferno._

_He started slapping at his clothes and skin. He had to put it out! The fire, that imaginary burning sensation!_

_He suddenly gasped. Jordon had caught sight of something bright. It was broiling, bursting to life. It was lambent and glowing, crackling with a sort of energy._

_It was fire._

_This wasn't his imagination. He was really on fire!_

"Ah," Giriko breathed in softly. "I think I know what you're getting at."

His smirk spreading in a mocking form of a Cheshire cat's grinning smile, he folded his bony hands together. Licking his cracked lips, the madness in his eyes danced. "So, my dear weapon, will you participate?"

_Hysterically screaming, the boy fell back into the lake of blood. It easily covered up to his stomach, and he attempted to splash it on him in order to douse the flames. Alas, it was no use. For some strange, unfathomable and rather supernatural reason, the fire kept burning. It was as if the blood was gasoline and it was simply making it all worse._

_Sitting upright, he tried to pull his clothing off. He quickly found this, however, couldn't be done. The fabric, from the intense flare of heat, had been glued to his body. _

_His skin was melting. He felt it. The flesh had began to drip down his body, bubbling and popping in areas. It was melding together with his bones and muscles. His skin almost represented lava; the flesh had become so red hot that it was nearly broiling._

_His voice was cracking now, breaking, as he felt the skin on his neck burst into flames. His face went next, as did the rest of his remaining limbs. His sanity lost to him, he sank back into the blood and, laying there, her let his body disintegrate. Staring up into the sky, his felt his mind frying as he sent up one last blurry prayer. His vision quickly blacked out as his eyeballs sizzled and burned away._

_His body was seized in agony. He was burning alive. He wasn't dying fast enough._

_Almost out of relief, he felt his limbs beginning to crumble away. His skin now completely melted off of his muscles, he could feel that his bones were charred to the point of being brittle. _

_Still, despite this, he was still breathing! What on earth was still keeping him alive?_

_Finding his voice one last time, he felt his muscles in his exposed, blackened jaw strain as he threw open his mouth in a scream. He begged out, pleading for God just to have some sort of mercy. He wanted death. He wanted peace. He didn't want this anymore. His Papa and Daddy had always said God was merciful to those who were suffering._

_Why wasn't God helping him now?_

Giriko grumbled, leaning against the wall. He watched as Asura dangled the boy in front of him. Those blasted scarves were still clasping the boy like some child clinging to a toy. "Does that mean the fuckin' brat has to stick with me from now on?"

"Unfortunately," he murmured. "Yes. There's no way that he should be around me. He should really learn from his _mentor_." Slyly sticking out his tongue, he let out a high pitched giggle. "The boy idolizes you, Sou."

Giriko quickly looked way, his eyes widening from shock. Jordon...? Did he really look up to him? That boy truly did confuse and amaze him. Kids had always run from him. Why was this little squirt different? What made Jordon want to cling to him so much?

Squaring his shoulders, he shoved his grungy hands into his pockets. He directed his hardened gaze towards the Kishin.

He may be sacrificing his peace, and possible sanity, but he knew what he had to do.

_His salvation began with a soft tingling sensation. He could no longer feel the fire burn away at him. His no longer felt his flesh being eaten up, used as a type of fuel. _

_His body was truly disintegrating. It was crumbling from the bottom up. His body was becoming flakes of ash that began floating away in the blood._

_Tiny pinpricks of light began to form from Jordon's disappearing body. Like tiny fireflies they rose to the sky, shimmering with a gorgeous light. They weaved together, casting a small kiss of a glimmering light to be cast on the boy's ravaged form._

_The lights smashed together, forming the boy's soul. _

"Fine," Giriko spat. "I'll be the kid's constant babysitter from now one. I'll get him to like your ways, you fuckin'_ prick_."

"Excellent," the God purred. Instantly he flung the boy, the scarves releasing it's ironclad grip on him. With a soft thump the boy hit the couch. The madness had been withdrawn from him, and the Kishin saw the boy's lungs begin to work again. The boy was wheezing now, gulping in the precious, sweet oxygen as his mind emerged from his horrendous illusion.

Jordon rolled over on his side. His face was strained with fear and pain. Instantly his drugged, still asleep form curled up into a fetal position. His tiny hands clutched at the couch's stained and torn material covering. Little tiny whimpers could be heard now coming from the mentally shaken child.

Giriko was amazed, but the sight before him tore his heart in two. He hated seeing the poor child suffering like that. He wanted to instantly go over to the boy and take him in his arms, but he had to restrain himself. What was coming over him? He was _Giriko Sou_! He was a terrifying weapon, not some sort of parental guardian! He wasn't supposed to be this soft hearted sap who fell for little kiddies and played games with them in the afternoon sun while cheap ass, cheesy show tunes tinkled somewhere in the distance. He wasn't like that kind of person at all, so just exactly why was he feeling like this now?

He couldn't risk showing his soft hearted side to that blasted demon God. He tried to show that he wasn't interested in the boy as he continued to suffer in the dregs of his nightmares. He stalked over to the side, kicking aside debris on the floor, his boots crunching on the shards of empty, broken beer bottles. Each crunch shot through his soul, and he swore he was pierced by imaginary bullets.

He had to fake that he was more pissed about loosing precious time (and possibly future drinking binges) because he had to now take care of his constant young charge.

The Kishin gave a haughty smirk as he turned, brushing by the weapon. Patting the man lightly on the shoulder, his forced sympathy was mocking. "I'll leave the human runt in your care."

Flicking his pissed gaze over at the God, Giriko watched as the God seemingly melted into the shadows of the room. He felt the tense pull of madness leave the atmosphere and, because of that, he safely knew he was once again alone in that room.

Alone, of course, with a emotionally damaged child.

Silence rested in the room, broken only by the scared, breathless whimpers of the child. Rolling his eyes and clicking his tongue, the independent weapon found himself crossing the length of the room in a few careful strides.

Cringing away from the sudden approach of the weapon's aura, Jordon unknowingly curled up even more in his slumber. Frightened tears began to trickle from underneath his closed eyelids, and his whimpers began to form words.

Sighing, the man sat down heavily on the couch. He moved until he was beside the boy, hearing the springs crack and snap underneath him in the cushion. Reaching out, he tenderly laid a hand on the boy's back. With a slow, kind motion he began to rub it with his thumb.

"P-----Pw----Pwa--pa.....D--Dwa--d---dy. W---Why dwid y---y----yew dwie....?"

Closing his eyes, the man shook his head. As much as he would have jumped at the idea of that priest, Law, dying some sort of agonizing death, he had to feel sorry for the kid witnessing that illusion. That bastard of a demon! What on earth had he been projecting into that young, innocent mind? He could only imagine the horrors that the boy had experienced deep within the realm of his temporarily twisted mind.

"I hwurt," the boy whimpered, gasping. His eyelids fluttered for a moment, and he shuddered. "Mweister.... G....Gwiriko. I....._hwurt_..."

Blinking in surprise, he glanced down at Jordon's face. The boy was talking to him? Without thinking beforehand what he was doing, the tough, hardened villain lowered his defenses. Reaching out, he picked up the boy, pulling him into his lap in a cradling, protective hug. Leaning back on the couch, he let the boy curl up against his stomach. He felt Jordon's body tremble and shake in his seemingly everlasting torment.

"G----Gwiri---" The boy's hand shot out, clutching at the man's grubby, oil stained shirt. It squeezed at the material tightly. His eyes were opening slightly, and his normally bright, blue gaze was now dimmed a little from terror.

His hard, stony personality softening quite a bit, the man hugged the boy close. "Don't worry," he said, surprised his voice got stuck in his throat. "I'm here. D--Don't worry. I'm here... now _rest_. I'm not gonna leave ya..."

His body giving one final violent tremble, the boy began to sob. Burying his face in his protector's shirt, he let all his fears pour out of him.

Smiling sadly, Giriko sat there with the boy far into the night. Cradling him close, he kept a hold on him until the night hours crept upon them, and they both found themselves in an uneasy state of sleep. Together they helped each other.

Giriko may have kept the boy in a sense of feeling safe, but the _boy_ was giving _Giriko_ a new lease on the meaning of his life.

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**Chapter by: Wolf**


	12. Beginning of the End

**Hey Guys! Sorry for the long wait! Finally I hammered out a chapter so we could update. Hopefully the next Chapter won't take as long. Thanks!**

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**Chapter 12 – Beginning of the End**

With a groan the elder Deathscythe opened his eyes, almost seeming to do it forcefully. Staring at a hotel ceiling wasn't nearly as enjoyable as remembering happier times. However, if he didn't get up and fight this cruel situation his lover and himself were faced head to head with, they might never see happy days again. Grunting ,he sat up in bed, and Justin's head slid off him to now rest on the pillow. He threw back the covers on the bed and swung his legs around to the side. Spirit rested there for a moment, rubbing his face with his palms, his elbows resting on his knees. After taking that short breather, he mustered up the energy and stood up. With a sleepy grunt he headed toward the bathroom in just his briefs. For now he would just let the young priest sleep. After all it had been ages since Justin had received a decent amount of rest. He would need all he could get.

Shutting the door behind him, Spirit then flicked on the light before walking the short distance over to the shower. Not even hesitating he turned on the water. Slipping out of his underwear , he tested the water with fingers. Once certain it wasn't terribly freezing cold or scolding hot he stepped in. The water felt nice against his bare skin. It was pleasing, relaxing. Although, the second he felt himself loosen up he quickly shook his head, straightening his body. He was stiff. He couldn't relax, not now, not while Jordon was in danger. The weapon reached over, grabbing the shampoo the Hotel provided. Pouring a bit into his hand, probably more than necessary, he began to scrub his red hair with his eyes closed.

The stressful hours and sickening thoughts of what could be happening to his son weighed on his mind heavily. Spirit wished he could return to his day dreams, his memories of the times before. Why couldn't life be as simple and happy as back then? Why couldn't everyone just live in peace without a care? It didn't make sense to him. Why were there people who wanted to create chaos and ruin the lives of others?

The darkness that was created from just his eyes being closed made him feel alone, lost, and confused. His mind felt as though his soul was drowning and unable to reach out for help. He felt a shiver run down his spine, his soul quivering. Suddenly becoming afraid he rinsed his hair in a hurry, washing out the shampoo from his head and his face before opening his eyes frantically. Albarn glanced around wildly. What he saw was normal: the neutral color shower curtain; the light from above the sink leaking into the shower from over head; his own wet body. Nothing was out of place... so then why had his heart rate picked up? Why was he so terrified all of a sudden? His breathing was slowly becoming shaky, his hands and knees began to tremble. Perhaps it was time to get out of the shower. Something wasn't right with him, and there was no denying it.

However, before he could reach down to turn off the water, he felt a change. The water was _different._ It took on a thick, slimy texture, the sticky substance slithering down his skin now instead of sliding freely off of him. Seeing a glimpse of red he swiftly closed his eyes tight. "BLOOD!?" he cried. He quickly lifted his hands to conceal his face before he shook his head, trying to convince himself that it wasn't so. After all, how could it be? _It's my hair! _He thought desperately. _My hair is red! …It's just my hair!!_

Once finding the courage, he opened his eyes. What he saw, sadly, was definitely not his red hair. Thick, red blood streamed from the shower head, dripping down and soaking him. The heavy smell of iron filled the shower, causing him to gag in an act of terror. He yelped and attempted to take a step back, only to find himself slipping on the back of the bath tub. He ended up landing hard on the shower floor, hitting the back of his skull against the back of the enclosed space. The weapon cried out again, this time from pain. Although this throbbing didn't last long, he was too horrified to think much about it. Opening his eyes once more he saw the blood on the shower wall slowly taking form of a shape. No... not a shape. An eye? Not one... but three! Three eyes, the satanic eyes and spine tingling sign of the Demon God. Spirit stared, his mouth falling agape. He wanted to cry out, call for Justin's help, but words had failed him for the first few seconds. His voice finally crackling to life, he hoarsely whispered a weak hearted, "no..."

He felt like his mind was descending. He was being pulled downward, being absorbed--- no... he was being _consumed_ by this madness. His couldn't think and could barely breathe. He opened his mouth to scream once again, but he heard nothing aside from the deafening pulse of his heart. Thoughts of people dying, burning, being slaughtered in every way possible filled his mind. Their screams were echoing in his thoughts. It was enough for him to nearly wish for his own death. Through the screams he actually heard words. The invisible, suffering people were calling out to him. They were begging him to make the pain stop, begging him to safe them. They were pleading, asking him why he failed them. Spirit flinched when he swore he felt the cloth from the Kishin's scarves wrap around his limbs. Those bindings were pulling him down into the darkness, pulling him further from his sanity and deep into the void of the screaming. Yet, despite the sheer terror that was consuming his entire being, Spirit oddly enough felt that this descent into the madness was quite _comforting_. The scarves felt sweet as it caressed his flesh. They were numbing his senses, making the screaming dull to a hum. Perhaps this insanity wasn't so bad. Perhaps it would be okay if he didn't fight it….

"NO!" He forced his eyes open to gaze back on reality. He frantically looked around him. Much to his surprise, it was all gone. No more blood, no more eyes, no more pain. Just water. It was all just a hallucination…?

The man trembled as he lay sprawled out on the bath tub part of the shower. What had just happened? But, more importantly, why and just exactly how? Spirit shook his head violently before pushing himself up. He turned off the water and quickly hopped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. He made a beeline, quickly leaving the bathroom and walking into the main room which was both the living room and bedroom. To his surprise Justin was still sleeping soundly. The boy had not noticed anything that was going on around him. He never noticed Spirit's loud incident in the shower. The priest must have been a heavy sleeper just like Spirit himself. This made him chuckle, however rather nervously since he was still in a little bout of shock from what had just happened.

He allowed the towel to drop before, he reached down, slipping into his day old underwear and wrinkled slacks. He looked horrible and the fact that he was unable to get any clean clothes disgusted him a tad bit. Of course he was stupid enough to no bother to grab even his cell phone before running out of his apartment with such determination. He really could have called the boy, letting him know he was downstairs in the Hotel's laundry room, but since he forgot his cellphone that idea had flown out the window as soon as it settled in the Scythe's mind. Really, though, it wasn't his fault for forgetting that behind. Sometimes, when your child's life was on the line, who _would_ think about taking that?

By now he had slipped on his olive shirt and had tucked it in, although it still had several buttons to go before it would be fully secured. Not bothering to put on his belt just yet, Spirit quietly stepped over to the bed where Justin lay peacefully. He sat down next to him, the mattress sinking down under the weight of his body. Carefully the red-head reached out, gazing at Justin with such love, softness and concern in those emerald eyes of his. Brushing back his hair with a couple fingers, he leaned down before kissing Justin on the forehead. He smiled, whispering, "it's time to get up, Jasu…"

The young man whimpered, his eyebrows pulling together and his eyes squeezing tighter shut before relaxing again. He was most likely drifting back into the heavy sleep that consumed him, the sleep he so desperately needed.

Spirit sighed, hanging to head a little before looking down at the cheap motel carpet at his feet. He then glanced up and out the window. He watched the sky for a moment or two, gazing upon the horizon as it changed colors as the day settled into play. When the sunshine had suddenly become absent, only gray light filled the room and shadows took over the light's place. Glancing over to the nearby forest, even threw the glass Spirit could see the dark ominous clouds rolling in.

_Wonderful,_ he thought before looking back down and nudging Justin. "Come on, sleepy head… You've got to wake up."

Once again Spirit received that same reaction, but this time after a moment Justin's blue eyes fluttered open. At first the priest smiled sweetly upon seeing his lover's face. However, as Justin looked around and remembered where he was and why, his mouth began to part, his brows turned up giving him a hurt and broken appearance and the tears began to well. This only made Spirit's heart crack further. Spirit knew that what he was doing was actually hurting the boy in a way. Who was he to wake the boy and return him to his nightmare?

"Calm down, Justin…" Spirit murmured, pulling him into his arms. He was aiming to both comfort him while hoping to obtain comfort for _himself_. "We're going to find him today. If not, well… We'll search tomorrow. We won't stop until we do."

"Time is running out," Justin replied with a rather emotionless tone. "The more time we spend searching, the less chance we have of finding him--- ... _alive._"

Spirit's heart throbbed painfully in his chest hearing these quiet words. The man quickly removed Justin from his arms and held the boy's face in his hands. "Jasu… You need to have more faith that that! Y—You can't just give up like this!" As he stared at the young priest he felt the pain of his lover's spill into him from those unnerving blue eyes. What frightened him was that those eyes were slowly reverting back to their vague, emotionless state. "P—Please… J—Just hold on a bit longer. I swear to you, our Jordon will be back in our arms… alive and well!" He pulled Justin back into his arms for another tight hug, only pausing to kiss him on the lips, letting their lips make contact for a brief but meaningful second.

While holding him, he began rocking him a little in his arms, tears streaming down his cheeks while leaving behind their glinting paths. This entire time he had tried so hard to hold back any sign of weakness, but now it showed. How did he expect to hide it the entire time anyway? "Now get dressed… If time is what you're worried about, then let's not waste anymore."

The young clergyman nodded, clinging to his lover tightly before moving smoothly off the bed they both sat on. Law was still a little shy to get out from under the covers wearing nothing but his underwear. He honestly didn't understand why, though, but perhaps when he wasn't in the heat of the moment he was more self conscious to how small and scrawny he was compared to the muscular Deathscythe, Spirit. Justin slipped into his pants and robes, his hands fumbling over the buttons as he tried to fasten them. He was so anxious, so afraid of what they could very well find today. Spirit had told him to have faith, stay optimistic, but it was hard to. He had tried at first, but now it seemed almost too difficult to even try.

When the two men were ready, they stepped out of the room, walking down to the lobby. Justin headed over to the kitchen like area, grabbing a cup of coffee for the go and two poppy seed muffins, which he handed one to Spirit when he returned to his side. Spirit, in the meanwhile, had been checking out. The person at the counter was barely awake as he took the key from Spirit and returned it to the rack. The Deathscythes then proceeded to exit the building.

Justin took a sip of coffee from the Styrofoam cup before making a slightly disgusted face. He really wasn't one for coffee, but he figured it might wake him up. How he longed for a cup of good tea right about now. Coffee had more caffeine than his favorite drink, so he figured he'd try that. It was a big mistake. After that sip he didn't think it was really worth it. "Do you want the rest?"

Spirit titled his head at the question. "But you only had a sip…."

"I know," Justin murmured, still standing in front of the entrance of the hotel. Spirit was just a few steps ahead of him.

After not getting any further response Spirit shrugged before smirking a little and taking the cup of coffee from Justin's hand. "Sure. Coffee sounds nice anyway."

The older man then took a drink from the cup before placing an arm around Justin's shoulder, pulling him to his side as they walked to the boy's buggy. It was then they realized how quiet it was. The world seemed still, like time had stopped. No wind, no birds chirping. A sickening ,uneasy feeling settled down into both of their stomachs. Sure, it looked like there was a storm approaching, but with the stillness such as this they could only fear it was going to be a nasty one. The priest and the red-head parted ways now, Justin taking the driver's seat while Spirit took his embarrassing spot in the coffin that was towed behind.

With the turn of the key the engine came to life with a roar, and they were on their way. They drove through the small village and continued down the same road they had come in on. It really wouldn't have surprised them if it was the _only _road that went through the inhabitance. The road was gravel and dirt for the most part. The ride was bumpy and uncomfortable, for them both, but it wasn't long before they had reached their destination.

Justin's vehicle came to a gradual halt. This was approximately where Maka had told them where she and Soul had found the cross fragile and tiny pendant with the family picture inside. It also had been noted that even though it was early in the morning, darkness consumed the forest. The clouds had reached them now, the dark shadows they cast making the inside of the forest as black as night. Only bits of gray light occasionally seeped in through the pine needles and leaves. Along with the oncoming storm, the air also seemed cold, not to the point where one might need an extra layer, but enough where it was noticeable and may cause one to shiver on occasion. Jumping out of the coffin, Spirit broke the silence. "This is it…?"

Nodding, Justin, too, got out of his seat. "This is the point on the map that was circled."

"Then we'll begin looking…" Spirit offered a weak smile as he stepped toward the young man. He took both of Law's hands into his own, squeezing them firmly. "We're so close… You can't give up just yet. I'm not going to let you…"

The guillotine lowered his head. "This isn't fair…" He murmured.

"I know, but we'll find him, I pro—"

"Not that-- well… yes, that too, actually, but what I meant… was…" Justin lifted his head, looking back into Spirit's emerald green eyes. He could tell he was hurting, but, still, they shined so brightly even in this gray light that they illuminated the once depressing atmosphere in world. He found comfort in them. "It's not fair that you do so much for me. You lead me down the right path and make sure to steer me in the right direction…. A—and here…. I just give you an occasional thank you. That doesn't even begin to cut it! Spirit, I—"

"Shh..." Albarn removed his interlaced fingers from Justin's and pressed them to his lips. "I don't need a thank you, Justin…. I do this because I love you. Spending time with you and seeing you happy is your gift and thank you to me. You make me happy, Justin. Lately, though, I've been losing you, and that's why we're here, is it not? I'm going to return our son to you. I want to see you happy again, I want Jordon safe in our arms. And I will not stop looking for him until I can hold him... until I can hold my happy _reunited_ family in my arms once more."

Justin threw his arms around Spirit in that moment, clinging to him tightly as he buried his face into the man's chest. It wasn't long until he felt the other Deathscythe's arms wrap around him. He was crying by this point, and he seriously wondered at times how he deserved such a man as this. Spirit was literally his source of life, and everything had seemed so much easier since the day he had fallen in love. All the while the older Deathscythe had told him he did not need a thank you, Justin still felt so obliged to do so.

"You know... I'd love to stand here and hold you all day…. but we need to get moving." Spirit said after a while. He didn't want to break apart, he loved being able to be so close to his love, but he knew they needed to get on their way and if possible find Jordon before this storm hit.

Slowly they broke apart, and at the same time both faced toward the tangle or trees and other vegetation. There little boy was most likely in there. If not, then he had at least been near the area. They were both thrilled to possibly find their son, while also fearful of _how_ they may find him. However, standing there would get them nowhere. Together they stepped off the dirt road into the untamed forest, and closer to the nightmare awaiting them.

* * *

**Chapter by: Sporkie**


	13. A few perilous reminders

**Chapter 13: A few perilous reminders**

The sun shined down through the leaves and needles of the massive pine trees, gnarled maples and oaks that littered the area. The trees and surrounding foliage was casting oddly shaped shadows across the patchy grass and dirt covered forest floor. Everything seemed so calm and at peace with the sparkling morning dew still moistening the world.

Footsteps crunched by, twigs snapping as well as the mud squishing out from underneath a man and young boy's shoes. Giriko and Jordon's to be exact. The heretic sighed heavily, unsure what exactly what he was supposed to do with the kid. All he knew was that a little fresh air would probably do the child some good after his horrific event the evening before. Giriko had just been walking around, lazily drifting from the warehouse that they had been residing in. They ambled on over to a mill that was within a short walk away. Jordon was sticking close to his side, appearing to be utterly frightened of everything the world had to offer aside from the chainsaw who tried his best to show no interest in him. Approaching the rustic, deteriorating gate that loomed before them, separating them from the mill, Giriko clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction. He actually though the whole entire lumberyard, corporate work buildings, storage places and the like would have been in better condition than this. Past the gate, and to surrounding the main structure, was a tall, pockmarked stone wall. Upon it's weather worn surface was a archaic, faded sign that read, _'WARNING: Keep out. Authorized Personnel only'_.

Of course it had been years since anyone had entered the industry, and had long been out of work, so the sign almost seemed pathetically comical. The sign and gate itself showed it's lack of business due to the rusted 'warning' sign was barely hanging on the chain link door, to which Giriko noticed the door was barely hanging onto _it's _own hinges. Fumbling with the gate, the chainsaw then realized that a pad lock was secured on it.

No one could get in or out-- at least not from _this _side of the structure. Always the rebellious one, Giriko took this obstacle as a challenge. He knew there wasn't really a reason to go in but, because of how much resistance he was coming up against, it was fueling his rage and royally irking him. It wouldn't open? Well, he intended to change that.

Trilling it's beautiful song, a small finch descended from the air and landed, daintily, on the stone wall. It's small little talons tapping against the rock underneath him, it twitched it's head to the side and proceeded to peer down at the two boys. It continued to tilt it's head in fast movements, back and forth, before beginning to sing a little tune for them.

Hearing the wonderful music that they were being blessed with, a slow and small smile appeared on Jordon's lips. He was pleased by the pretty sound. After all, being raised in his family he was brought up to appreciate music of all sorts-- whether made by mankind or by nature itself. Giggling a little, Jordon just beamed up at the little bird, throughly enjoying the concert.

"Goddammit....!"

Instantly twitching with fear, the boy looked at Giriko out of the corner of his eye. He was still locked into the frightened hold of his His smile quickly faded, and he felt his body flinch, when he heard the torrent of his protector's vulgar cursing spill from his lips.

To Giriko, hearing that bird's pretty little song was like hearing fingernails raking down the surface of a chalkboard. Of course, any high pitch sound- like what that poor bird was chirping along- would sound terrible when you had a splitting headache from a previous night of binge drinking. Migraines were a big nuisance, and the alcoholic chainsaw knew of that all too well.

"FUC--!!!" Giriko grabbed his head, a vein twitching in his temple. His eyes were wild with rage and pain. "WHY DONTCHA JUS' SHUT DA HELL UP, YA IDIOT BIRD?!"

Whimpering in dread, Jordon wrung his hands tightly, unsure of what was going on. Was Giriko have a temper tantrum? Was he angry at the bird? Was he _afraid_ of them? A million questions ran through his young mind. He was so confused, but the one thing he knew was that he hated the screaming. He clapped his hands over his ears, eyes wide and dilated.

Hearing the bird continue on it's merry little whim of singing, Giriko snarled viciously. Lashing out with a powerful kick, his foot connected with the metal and easily he bashed the gate. It went flying backwards, tumbling over and over before and crashing against the stone structures of the mill.

The bird, in a total state of panic after hearing the crash of the mangled gate. In an instant it decided it was better to chirp and sing his soothing lullaby somewhere else, seeing as this strange human was insane enough that he'd probably enjoy breaking his small, frail body to pieces, to which it wasn't that far off thinking that.

Spreading it's small wings, it alighted, squawking from fear. The gate being bashed into and thrown back was all it needed as proof to make a break for it if it valued it's tiny, innocent life. Soon the small yellow avian was in the air, beating it's wings in a maddening attempt to put distance between the two, now assuringly deranged, humans.

Jordon squeaked a little, reaching out with his small hands and grabbing onto his pant leg. He was clinging to him, so terribly scared. The boy let his nails dig into the coarse, rough fabric of the jeans the man always seemed to wear. With eyes fogged over with worry, he looked up at the taller man. His voice had died in his throat. At first he had been excited about exploring the grounds but, at the same time, he was still terrified of everything around him. Anything that moved, let alone breathe, couldn't be trusted right now.

Asura's painful illusion of his loved ones dying was still burned into his memory. He tried to push it to the back of his mind, but it kept creeping 's ragged form, Stein's dazed babbling... Jordon still had a hard time deciphering if it was false, or true. His daddy's dying, wheezing gurgles, and his papa's loving smile as his eyes were clouded, disappearing with his own mortality. Was that all fake, or was it really real?

Were his parents _actually _dead?

To scared to even think of the answer, he continued to ignore his fears. No matter what the case was, he felt alone, and Giriko was his only friend that seemed on his side. Despite those scary stories pit against the heretic, he didn't see a single scrap of madness or hatred in him. However, after just witnessing that display, even he was beginning to wonder. Was Giriko insane as well? Was he like the Kishin? And, if that was the case, what about his parents? His friends? Was everyone that Jordon had met really insane and twisted?

The older man snarled at the clatter of the gate. Taking a moment to regain his composure, and to relish the fact that there wasn't a noise to sound off his migraine again, he looked about before he decided to step in. He was cautious at first, all the while mentally questioning himself as to why he was doing this in the first place. This place was abandoned, right? Then it could possibly be dangerous. The saw mill hadn't had any activity since only God knows when.

"Ya comin', ya little brat?" He asked, once stopping on the other side of the door. In response, Jordon nodded quickly, shoving the rest of his negative thoughts in some dusty trunk deep within his brain. He'd unlock it later if he wanted to think about it again. Bounding over to the weapon's side, he once again clung to the man's leg. He wanted to keep awfully close.

Glancing around, Jordon saw that the area they now stood in had become wild. Mother nature had gone ballistic with the foliage, and now it was over grown with trees, grass, shrubs and ivy. It was almost difficult to tell where exactly the metal and stone was beneath all of the lush plants.

There were pipes and conveyor belts criss-crossed, tangled through the air and suspended by metal bars consumed in vines, ivy and wayward mold. All this led to and entered a couple main buildings, and rather large ones at that. Most of the windows of the building had been broken, plants leaking out from within them.

All of this amazed Jordon who, at his age, was easily in awe of almost anything that was out of the ordinary routine. All at once he wanted to run about, examining ever nook and cranny that the place had to offer. He wanted to see and explore it all. Hecouldn't help but get so curious about the place.After all, he hadn't been anywhere outside of his little neighborhood in Death City. This was brand new, and truly exciting!

His small heart beating as fast as the finch's wings did against the air, he nearly squeal with enthusiasm. Tugging on Giriko's leg, he pointed off to the right. He wanted to go that direction but, after a few seconds of tugging. He saw that Giriko was too busy inspecting what he wanted.

Pouting a bit, the boy felt both agitation and impatience kick in. It took him a moment before he thought of an idea. By golly, if Giriko wasn't going to show him around, then he'd help himself to it!

Finding a bit of courage, Jordon trotted away from Giriko, who had seemed to have taken an interest on something in the opposite direction. He decided to gingerly wade through the overgrown weeds and vines, pushing them aside with his tiny hands as he explored the area. He made sure to stay within Giriko's sight, but he didn't want to pass up on the moment to check things out.

The child managed to make his way over to the side of a warehouse and found a rather large opening towards the bottom. Getting on his hands and knees, he peeked in. Everything was a little darker inside, but he could vaguely make out shapes. He could see mass of overhanging pipes, and a few bulky forms of some machinery. He gave a quick glance over his shoulder at the elder weapon.

Giriko wasn't noticing a thing. The chainsaw was completely oblivious. He wouldn't notice if he took a moment to explore, right? Curiosity was burning in the little child's soul. "Only ...fer a swecond." Smiling a little in a guilty, but excited, fashion, Jordon glanced back through the ventilation opening. Taking a deep breath, he held it in anticipation before crawling forward. A quick look around the place couldn't hurt right? Of course, he knew he'd be back before Giriko even noticed he was gone.

Reading the end of the tunnel he was crawling through, he entered a vast and cavernous room. Able to stand up on his own two feet now, his eyes widened at the sight in front of him. A massive saw was looming at the end of a conveyor belt. Catching some of the dying light that managed to filter in through the broken and grimy windows, it gleamed menacingly. However, while all the while intimidating, it also sparked the child curiosity. He ran forward, crawling onto the platform (used for cutting wood slabs) that rested below the saw. He was attempting to get a better look at how the machine might possibly work. Any tool fascinated the boy. " I--I wowndwer how yew twurn it on..."

As Jordon reached out, his tiny hand nearing the rusted and battered blade, he twitched in a slight pang of guilty fear. His eyes went wide as he turned around, looking about him. He had just heard Giriko call for him. Was his absence already known? Like any child in trouble, Jordon began to fidget and fret. He was obviously in the wrong for wandering off but he had to be honest with his amazing curiosity and stubbornness. He wanted to explore on his own, but he was also on the verge of getting in trouble. He was torn between what he wanted to do.

"U-Uh... One s-second, Mwister Gwiriko!" He glanced down and over the side of the conveyor belt he had crawled onto. Then it hit him. He was high up. The warehouse must have went for miles below him, beneath the earth itself. What he had crawled in through was one of many air vents. He had gotten onto a conveyor belt that chopped and processed wood.

Getting scared, Jordon just knelt there on that platform table, shivering. He hated heights. Well, he wasn't afraid of him. More or less he just disliked being anywhere high up in a place he wasn't familiar with. He was never afraid when his Papa or Daddy put him on their shoulders. In fact, that type of height he liked. However, peeking over the side again, he stared far down, peering straight into the bottom of the warehouse logging area itself. It was dark, but he could make out that the ground was a bit shiny and reflected off any stray light that fell down there. He didn't know it but the bottom bowels had been flooded a few years back. It had never had the chance to drain out. Surely by now the water had gone stagnant, unfit for even human consumption with how much bacteria was in it, and how many times critters had relieved themselves, or even died, in the water.

Hearing Giriko's distant call again, Jordon had to make up his mind fast. He had to get back to the weapon before he got angry. Remembering the poor bird and Giriko's screaming fit, he knew right then and there he never wanted to make the man angry.

Jordon quickly got to his feet. However, in his panicked rush, the boy felt his foot slip on the slightly wet and grime crusted platform beneath his feet. Teetering for a moment, he felt himself fall backwards. He instantly thought he was going to fall off the edge, plummeting to the ground hundreds of feet below. Knowing he only had a split second to make up his mind on what to do, the boy cried out and grabbed onto anything he could.

Little hands wrapping around some overhanging pipes, he managed to keep himself in a straight line when he fell. He didn't fall off to the side, down to his death. No, he was safe. Thankfully he fell forward just enough that he fell off the platform table, his chin smacking against the conveyor belt beneath him. He whimpered a little, merely out of terror and pain.

Before Jordon could breathe in to calm his throbbing heart and lungs, he heard something very disturbing. It was a low creaking, or deep moaning, of shifting gears and toggles. Eyes as wide as saucers, he bolted upright. He took a few steps backwards and felt his shoulder bump against something solid and hard. Freezing, he glanced upwards.

When Jordon had reached out to grab onto anything to help him fall, he had grabbed onto some pipes, yanking them. They now hung dilapidated and flyaway. Because of this, though, some of the supports to the saw were weakened. What Jordon had backed up into, of course, _was_ the saw. With all this going against the boy, the structure had become dangerously unstable.

That's when he heard yet another yell. It was Giriko's voice again. This time, of course, it was barely heard over the cracking and creaking of the structure above him. Eyes flicking towards the opening for a second, then back at the saw, Jordon raised his voice loud as he said, "G—Gwiriko, I'm c—comi---"

Then it happened. There was a mighty_ crack _as several bolts and screws fell down on Jordon's head. Looking back up, Jordon knew all of his previous fears were confirmed. He may have been a young boy, but even he knew when he was in danger. Mouth agape, he realized the sickening truth.

The massive saw as falling.

A high pitched scream, laced with absolute terror, rang throughout the mill. It echoed within the vast forest, racing through the trees and scattering the birds to the ominous sky.

A scream A loud crunch. Silence.

-------------

Jerking a bit, Giriko whirled around in his spot. He scanned the place in a panic. _I just heard something that sounded like a scream,_ he thought. He bristled with agitation. The kid had decided to vanish into thin air, and it pissed him off. He wanted the kid within his sights. He knew that if anything happened to the kid, it'd be his head on a platter served up piping hot and bloody to the demon God.

Growling, the chainsaw felt his patience get paper thing. Where the heck was that kid? "JORDON! Hey, kid! Where there fuck are ya, twerp? Where the hell did ya go?!"

Moments when by and the only thing heard was the wind whistling through the trees as the bad weather started to roll in. Snarling, Giriko made a vow that if the boy made him search in the rain that he would get punished so hard that he'd wish he would have died. The chainsaw got surly in the rain seeing as if he went in weapon form, all those gears and chain belts from his weapon could likely get rusted.

All around him was silent. Not a creature stirred, and nothing made a sound aside from that blasted chilly wind. Receiving such silence, Giriko became nervous and fidgety. He began to walk around, scouring the area for any telltale sign of the boy or where he had likely run off to. Sliding his way through the wayward stalks of wild weeds and pushing past the clumps of tangled grass, he began shouting over and over for Jordon. He was disgusted when he felt what he assumed was furry bodies of rodents- rats, most likely- skitter past his legs and brush up against him. He absentmindedly bent down, slapping at his pant leg and ankle. The hairs on his neck rose. He had touch a small, furry and warm bodied critter.

Giriko was furious. That kid better be in some sort of trouble for the chainsaw to put up with this nuisance. "Hey! Jordon! Why dontcha stop hidin' on me? I'm not playin' games anymore."

"G—Gwiriko...?"

That voice! Stopping in his tracks, Giriko strained to listen. That voice was soft, faint, but it was unmistakably Jordon's. It had come to the right of the chainsaw. Wading through the jungle that was known as that unruly grass, he peeked behind bushes and shrubs, half expecting the boy to be hiding behind one of them. He was now hearing muffled sobs.

Why was it so soft? Those were Jordon's cries, but where on earth was he to make them muffled so much? He glanced around, scanning the the ground, almost half expecting some hellishly big gopher hole that the kid could have possibly tumbled down like some boyish Alice in his twisted Wonderland.

Hearing the boys cries gave Giriko enough of a clue on the where abouts of the child. His slow steps became quick strides, pushing aside branches and leaves in an attempt to get to the boy as fast as possible. He was following the cries, chasing them down. "Jordon? JORDON! Where are ya, kid?"

"G—Gwiriko..."

Not watching where he was going, Giriko nearly slammed up against the side of the warehouse. Stumbling back, regaining his composure, he stared up at the concrete wall before him. "Wha the fu--?" The sobs had gotten louder the closer Giriko got to one of the side of the warehouse. _Was the kid inside?_ He thought, confused. _How the hell could he get inside without me noticing? Most of the entrances are probably glued shut with rust._

Studying the wall up and down, sure enough the sobs were just beyond it. That's when his gaze trailed downwards, towards the bottom part of the structure's wall. He saw it. It was a ventilation shaft. Slammed with the truck of realization, he knew that Jordon had climbed down into the bottom part of the warehouse. But how far? No matter. He had to get the brat back before Asura got suspicious of their absence.

Rolling up his sleeves, the chainsaw got down on hands and knees. He was prepared to crawl into the small space if he had to. If he got stuck, well, that was just _another_ reason to punish the kid.

He didn't have to go in far. Just peering into the tunnel, he saw a curious scene that made his heart cinch up in a momentary flash of fear.

There was a boy, lying down on the conveyor belt, facing the tunnel. Behind him, sunk deep into the structure and threatening to cleave the belt in half was a nasty, vicious and archaic saw. Feeling sick a little already, Giriko noticed a path of the boy's light blue shirt as it was pinned to the surface from the blade. Had the saw almost fallen on the boy? He watched Jordon, trying to watch what was going on with his poor mind.

Jordon had managed to get out of the way, just in time, but not before getting stuck to the floor from the blade catching onto his baggy shirt. He had torn himself free and had crawled up to the opening before his little heart seized up and froze him, paralyzing in his horror. All Jordon could do was lay on his back, staring back at the bladed monstrosity.

Everything had shook the boy down to his very core. Jordon, eyes wide open, stared at the blade of the saw. It's rusted surface was once shimmering with polish. It had once been beautiful, a glorious tool in the age of economical progress. It was once used as a powerful tool to rent timber asunder, but now it remained as desolate as it's home had become. The boy could still see his reflection on the grimy, weather beaten metal of the saw. He could see his terrified eyes wide from shock. He seemed so small, so fragile, next to the instrument of his possible death.

Slowly the boy sat up. He managed to still his thudding heart. Trembling, he gazed up at the contraption the saw had once been sitting in. Age and disuse must have made it's socketed bindings fragile, allowing the blade to fall loose. With a terrified gasp he started to cry. Bit fat tears rolled down his face as he remained there, still paralyzed from terror, unsure what would have happened to him if it had fallen just a few inches closer to the right.

Hearing the tears, Giriko's rough act softened a bit. He was unsure if the boy was hurt. Softly he clicked his tongue, trying to get the boy's attention. He wasn't exactly wanting to scare him more either, seeing as the saw had did a good enough job with that. "J---...Jordon.....?"

The sobs Giriko was hearing only strengthened in volume and force. The younger weapon turned around to face him, his teary and horrified eyes gazing back at the chainsaw. "G--Giwikwo--! I---I--- I DWIDN'T MWEAN TEW! I--I-----IT BWOKE BY ITSELF!" He babbled forth a series of apologies. He was caught doing something bad, and he knew it.

For a moment Giriko just stared at the boy, watching the young child freak out. He swallowed, this time not gulping down snot but his heart that, for the second time that day, seemed to magically leap into his throat. He felt his body begin to shake as the all too reality that the boy could have died hit him. Despite him being thankful that the boy was alive, his brown eyes hardened with anger. Jordon had run off and disobeyed his orders. Because of that, the boy had almost gotten killed. S_tupid goddamn brat,_ he thought. _Just how idiotic can children be?_

Swiftly bending down, Giriko reached over and, grabbing a clump of Jordon's fiery hair, he pulled, dragging the boy out.

"OW!" Jordon cried in alarm as the chainsaw's rough hand yanked him up. "G---Giwiko d-dat hwurts!" Tears had already stained his cheeks, but because of Giriko's actions more were welling up in his eyes. "W--Where ar--are we g—gowing?"

With the boy pulled out of his hiding spot, completely out of the ventilation shaft, Giriko let out a snarl. Switching his hold on Jordon, the elder weapon was now practically holding up the boy by the back of his shirt collar. Bringing the boy to his face, he glared into those scared blue eyes. Scowling deeply, he growled, "Jordon... why the _hell_ did ya fuckin' _run_ _off_?"

"I---I.... I dwidn't...mwean tew..." Jordon whined, trying his best to avoid looking Giriko straight in the face. He struggled and squirmed a bit. The way he was being held was none to comfortable and he, even he at his age, knew that it was a degrading sort of move.

Giriko sighed and, softly, he took the boy into a hug. Putting his hand behind the boy's back, he supported and cradled him. "Ya fuckin' scared me, ya little brat..." A slight flush rose to his cheeks, and he turned his gaze away from the boy. _I'm too soft right now,_ he thought. _What am I doing? I shouldn't be comforting the byproduct freak child of my enemy! _Shaking his head, he stood up, putting the boy on his shoulders. "Don't run off without me... got it?"

The young boy nodded, sniffling a little as he let his chin rest on top of Giriko's messy crop of hair. He felt a little better and much safer in the man's presence. His tiny little arms found their way away around the man's strong neck. He didn't squeeze Giriko's neck, but instead he just held on a little to be sure not to fall off. "C--Cwan w--we go b--back now....?" He questioned with a shaky voice. He had had enough adventure for one day, and the stress and fear was really beginning to take a toll on him.

Rolling his eyes upward to look up at the child, he weakly smirked. He sort of felt bad for the child. "Yeah. Ya know... that actually sounds like an okay idea fer me." For once Jordon had suggested something he didn't mind. His previous hangover was, in fact, coming back thanks to that little frightening ordeal with the hapless boy. He gave one final look around him before he raised an arm, resting it on Jordon's leg in order to keep the boy balanced and supported. "Ready to got back?"

Giggling a little, the boy grabbed onto a tuff of the man's spiky hair in a childish excitement. "Yeah! Lwet's go bwack!"

Smiling, Giriko suddenly felt like there was a reason he had to be with the kid. Maybe he _was_ there to teach the boy just how _vicious_ the world could be. Maybe he _was _there to sort of adopt him in a sense of the word. Perhaps he was supposed to knock the kid out of his imaginary realm of thinking and back down into the land of truths and reality.

Walking on in silence, both of them approached the gate that they had come in through. They were leaving the mill behind all the while putting the warehouse terror ordeal far out of their mind. Giriko had done his duty right. He had wanted to get the boy to stop thinking about the previous nightmare he had been shoved onto with, thanks to the Kishin madness. He had done very well, in some aspect.

A roll of thunder rumbled far off in the not so distant horizon. Both of the travelers paused in their progress back home. They glanced up at the sky. Sure enough there were thick, stormy clouds rolling in. They were broiling with precipitation, their thick heavy bodies colored a strange granite, or even asphalt black. This was going to be a terrible storm.

Knowing he had to get back before the rain hit, Giriko upped the effort. He sped up a little, reaching the gate just in time to feel a small raindrop plopped down on the bridge of his nose.

Reaching his tiny hands above his head, Jordon spread his fingers wide, trying to catch the raindrops in his palm. He loved the rain. He especially had enjoyed running around in the rain, playing tag and jumping into puddles with his two parents. "Wain! Wain!"

"Ah hah," Giriko sarcastically laughed under his breath. He was disgruntled now. "Yeah, brat. 'Rain'. Good job with yer speech impediment." Now outside the gate, he glanced around, trying to remember which path he took. He wanted to get home, and fast, before he rusted.

Leaning down a little, he leaned around Giriko so the man could see his face off to the side, right beside his. "Wanna jwump in the pwuddles wid mweh, Gwiriko?"

He could feel himself die a little inside. Was this kid really so idiotic as to forget they were going home? Growling in agitation a little, Giriko shook his head. "I don't like the rain, kid. It pisses me off."

"Now, now, Giriko..."

Giriko heard that silky, dark purr and realized who it was only a few seconds after Jordon shrieked in absolute terror. He felt the boy hunker down, nearly clinging to the back of his neck, as he buried his face in the man's crop of brown hair. He could feel the boy's heart flutter as rapidly as a hummingbird as the boy pressed himself as much as he could against the man.

Looking off to the side a little, Giriko was graced with none-other than the Kishin himself. His eyes narrowed dangerously seeing this. _What the hell is he doing here? Was he following us the whole time?_

"If the boy wants to play in the rain," the Kishin continued, "then by all means, why don't you play with him?"

The Kishin was there. What else could possibly go wrong for Giriko?

* * *

**Chapter by: Wolf**


	14. Stumbling upon Death

**Chapter 14: Stumbling upon Death**

The Kishin stood across from the weapon. Giriko glared at the other with cold serious brown eyes, while Asura gazed back with those disturbing eyes of his; those _gruesome_ eyes of his holding miniature eyes within their pupils. They were burning down into Sou's very core. The forest had seemed to have become still, the wind even giving the impression that it had momentarily stopped as the two men tried to read the other's thoughts. Giriko knew something was up. It was obvious. The only question was _what_. The wind picking up once more it whipped past, sending the limbs of the trees, leaves, as well as branches, into a frenzy as they went flying through the air thanks to its powerful gusts.

Jordon flinched, clinging to Giriko's neck tighter. The boy feared that the wind might blow him off his shoulders. He had seen that movie, "Wizard of Oz", and he knew what could happen if the wind caught him, throwing him into the sky where he would be swallowed up. Then again, he might rather face flying monkeys at this point than Asura's terrifying hallucinations. It seemed as though all those visuals tried bleeding back into his mind. The illusions of his fathers' mangled bodies were once again vivid now that the Kishin and his potent amount of madness were so close. The child began to whine a bit, the chainsaw instantly taking note of this. He wanted to protect the Albarn kid, and so returned his mind to focus once more on the God that stood before them. "Wha' do ya want, Asura?"

The Demon stared at the weapons for a moment or two before a small threatening smirk turned up on the corners of his lips. The smile was enough to strike fear into even Giriko's soul. "It's about time we re-stocked some supplies... and it looks like you were running low on beer, anyway." The creature added, purring with such a sickening and horrific voice, "I'll watch the child if you go into town and pick up the necessities."

Giriko wasn't sure what to do in response. He knew very well that they were low on food, and especially low on alcohol… and the latter wasn't good. However, he certainly didn't want to leave Jordon alone with Asura any longer than needed. Especially not, of course, after what had happened the night before. "Can't I take the damn brat wit' me?"

"What if the Deathscythes have posted missing fliers around town? People will _surely_ recognize their little 'bundle of joy' and report it," The Kishin replied. The response so calm and smooth, yet it almost seemed like it had been a very quick reply which caused Giriko to be a bit suspicious.

"Fine! … I'll go get tha' shit…" He pried Jordon off of his shoulders, the boy squirming and screaming as he was pulled from his position of comfort.

Jordon cried out, looking at the brown-haired man with the most pleading and terrified of eyes as he was set on the ground between the God and the older weapon. Once Giriko let go, Jordon threw himself at the male, clinging to his legs as terrified tears ran down his red cheeks. He was screaming out something, but sense it sounded so hysterical, his jumbled words didn't even sound like English.

Giving his leg a little kick, Sou sent Jordon falling into the mud. He stared a moment longer at the small boy, his heart aching seeing him sitting there in the dirt. Jordon appeared so afraid, broken, and hurt. Grime now covered the majority of his trembling body that occasionally heaved from a sob. So desperately Giriko wished to reach out and wipe the mud from his cheek. But he knew he couldn't do that. He couldn't show his soft spot. If he did that would only put Jordon in more danger, Asura would see that if he wanted to break down the chainsaw he'd simply just have to harm Jordon.

He also just wasn't that type of guy. He wasn't supposed to give in to stuff like that. Giriko was a killer, not some bastard who liked entertaining little kids. So why show a soft spot for this kid? They were all whiny twerps that were just full of shit and tears anyway. Why care about this one?

"I'll be back soon…" Sou was glancing down at Jordon when he first started that sentence gazing upon the boy with soft reassuring eyes. However as soon as they moved up toward Asura they became more hostile masking the care he had for the child. "Hurt da fuckin' kid and the deals off. I won' teach 'im to like yer blasted ways."

"Fair enough…" Asura flipped out a bony hand, looking at his fingernails like he was ignoring Giriko all together.

Asura's little gesture resulted in the short-tempered man to grit his teeth, while a vein began to pulse in his temple. "I'll be back soon." With an annoyed and pissed off huff Giriko stomped off through the mud and trees, trying to remember which path took him closer to town. Grumbling as he went he knew this trek through the brush wouldn't be fun. Especially with the oncoming storm that was now whipping through the limbs and trunks as an icy wind. Damn how he hated the woods sometimes. Damn how he hated storms. Damn how he hated _always_ being the apprentice when it came to evil plots.

Jordon cried out, stumbling after Sou the best he could. He didn't want to stay with Asura! NO WAY! "G—GIWIKWO! N-NO, GIWIKWO, WAIT!" However the child's crying turned into a loud high-pitched screech when he felt a silky scarf caress his flesh before tightening around his wrist almost to the point of restricting blood flow.

"Don't wander off child. We wouldn't want you to get away before your parents come…" With an effortless tug, the Kishin pulled Jordon closer to him, dragging him through the muck. "We have to go get ready. Set up a surprise for them for when they finally find you…"

Asura started forward, his tentacle of a scarf now holding Jordon in the air. The position of the scarf had since moved to wrap around his torso instead of his wrist.

"D—Dwaddy a-and Pwapa?"

"Yes..." He nearly hissed, "Your 'Daddy' and 'Papa'."

"D-Dere… a-alive?"

"For now… yes," Asura smirked. With all that said, he was walking back into the gate Giriko had just strode from.

He made his way up to the warehouse. Pushing aside some tangled and sickly clustered brush, he managed to find a hole big enough to enter. Slipping in, he knew at once he was within the confines of the main hub area. Further stepping into the place, he went started to go through hallways, corridors, and vacant rooms varying from mechanical spaces to areas reserved for storage. Much of the rundown mill was consumed with foliage, inside and out. It was if Mother Nature had cast some floral disease on the structure, and it was slowly decay beneath the mass of mold, lichen and vines.

Where the water wasn't flooding areas or entire rooms, grass and weeds were pushing up through the concrete flooring. The inside of the mill was nearly as dark as night. Only an occasional spat of light seeped through windows that were suspended up high on the walls. The gray light of the outside world was blinding. Occasionally the two would walk under a radiance, their bodies illuminated by a gloomy shine before they were inevitably consumed by darkness once more.

Jordon didn't like this one bit. His small body trembled in the Demon God's hold as they went forward. He didn't like the dark. Jordon found that the sound of dripping water along with the groans, howls and whistles of the wind as it lashed out at the building was all but reassuring and comforting. Scary things lived in the dark, and as far as the child knew those were the sounds of monsters that lived just beyond his vision. However, he knew that the most frightening of things was who he was currently at the mercy of.

"Where we gwoing?" Jordon whimpered as he peered around at his surroundings. "Are we gwoing ta pway in the mwud?"

Asura said not a thing. He only continued walking on in silence, stepping through the mill. All during that time his face holding an eerily straight expression.

----

That scream! Spinning around, Justin peered deeper into the forest. That sounded like his little boy! But where was he? "JORDON!" Justin cried out instantly. He was hoping desperately for a reply.

No reply came. Law's eyebrows furrowed as tears began to form once again in his eyes. He needed to find his angel as soon as possible. If that was his scream, it was both good and bad news. Good news being that he was still alive… Bad being that he was in pain or frightened. No parent wanted their child to be suffering.

Where was Spirit? Justin spun around again, now searching through the thick underbrush and tree trunks, searching for that bright red head of his amongst the green and browns. Nothing.

Earlier they had decided on splitting up, taking different paths in hopes to cover more ground. Justin almost regretted that now. He didn't particularly like pushing through the branches and brush especially when some wild carnivore might be lurking around the corner or, quite frankly, _worse_.

Blinking, Justin returned his focus to where he had heard the scream. He was no longer worrying about finding Spirit. He was positive the man was perfectly fine, and so was he aside from his robes being a bit muddy and some cuts on his hands from the blackberry bushes.

Justin followed the overgrown animal trail scanning every direction possible with each stride. Headphones dangling around his neck, he walked with silence, trying not to create a sound as he listened for anything aside from what the storm created. It was rather difficult to listen for clues while the weather caused such a disturbance. Justin almost wondered if there would have been a difference in hearing capabilities if he had kept his music blaring into his eardrums.

He made his way further into the forest. The leaves and pine needles of the trees were being blown in chaotic motions as the wind ripped through. More and more, by the second, were being sent flying off their twigs only to be lost amid the forest floor and the rest of the vegetation.

The further the priest walked the more concerned he became. The path he had been following had seemed to disappear entirely. To only heap onto his pile of mounting worries, he could've sworn he had seen a particular twig lying beside that same bluish pebble twice before. He let out a frightened whimper. He was unsure about his situation. Sure, he had been lost before, but at least during _those_ times he wasn't in the middle of a forest when what seemed like a tornado was brewing not too far away.

"Spirit?" The boy at last called. "Spirit! Can you hear me? Where are you!?"

Once again, no answer. He was starting to hate this. He felt incredibly alone standing in this forest, though he was sure more than just he currently resided in it. Justin shivered against the cold as he wrapped his arms around himself, rubbing his upper limbs in hopes to heat his chilled body with friction. "Spirit?" he whimpered once more.

_CRAC--RRRUNCH!_

He heard a twig snap. Justin quickly turned, snapping his head in the direction that he had heard something, or _someone,_ approaching from. The guillotine squinted his eyes a bit, attempting to see if he couldn't get a better look as he stared into the woods. He futilely started searching for the creature that created that noticeable commotion.

It sounded like footsteps... two feet perhaps? It was a human! Justin hunkered down in the brush, now holding his breath. Someone else was out there. _It could be Spirit, _he thought. _Don't get paranoid yet. It's him, I know it is! It could very likely be him_.

However, despite Justin's thinking, there was still a possibility that it could be an enemy as well. Over the sound of the howling wind Justin listened intently to the pattern of the footsteps as they squished through the mud and snapped twigs. His heart was racing, thudding in his ears, only making it more difficult to listen to the unknown being. Slowly Law gulped, his throat was dry from both lack of water and the fact that he was nervous. No... being 'nervous' would be an understatement. Gradually the young man's hand lifted, the thin fingers of his right hand curling around his cross pendant. It was then, just as he was about to close his eyes and murmur a silent prayer, did he notice the steps had suddenly taken a turn and were now advancing _towards_ him.

The boy was in a state of panic. He took in a sharp gasping breath and glanced around hurriedly. He had to find a way to escape unseen! Just as he was about to turn to make a break for it, he felt the tight grip of a foreign hand get a hold of him. It had grabbed his shoulder, another slipping around his mouth to ensure he remained quiet.

"Shhh," came a hushed, whispered voice from behind him. "Don't make a noise..."

Justin's eyes flew open wide and he let out a series of muffled cries. He was then pulled down into the cover of the tall grass and bushes that trembled in the gusts. Feeling the primitive fight or flight instincts kicking in, Justin thrashed against his attacker. He threw back his hand, only to find it snatched by the wrist tightly before it made an impact with the person's face. He yelped, though it was almost inaudible thanks to the fact that his mouth was clamped shut. Only when he was able to squirm just enough to see who it was did his heart finally begin to calm down from it's frenzied tattoo.

It was Spirit….

"Quiet, Justin… I'm not going to hurt you!" He exclaimed in a whisper before, at last, letting go of his mouth. Even though he had released his censoring hold on the boy's mouth, Albarn still held the boy close to him as he peaked over the brush and toward another being approaching.

Who could it be? Justin was almost more terrified now knowing that Spirit was by his side and couldn't be the being that lurked not too far from them. He, too, listened for signs. He seemingly clung more to Spirit with every step he heard get closer. Then both of them heard it. A frustrated huff followed by, "Fuck! This path dun look like da' the righ' one! Stupid deer dun leave good enough trails…"

Turning to each other, Justin and Spirit both knew that vulgar rough and scruffy voice.

"Giriko Sou…."

* * *

**Chapter by: Sporkie**

**Revised by: Wolf**


	15. Two souls under fire

**Chapter 15: Two souls under fire**

For a few moments Justin laid there in Spirit's arms, lying upon the wet, sopped ground. They were still hidden by the tall grass. It was their camouflage, their flora fort that hid them behind it's green walls of stalks and brambles. Even with their breaths held to the brink of suffocation, their hearts kept thudding at a maddening pace. _Ba--bump, Ba-Ba-bump, Ba—bump... _their hearts, without them knowingly doing so on purpose, had matched each other's panicky beat. They were linked body and soul without meaning to in the first place.

The squishing footsteps of Giriko got nearer to them as they laid there the bush. The closer the chainsaw got, the more Spirit's nails dug into the boy's robes. He had always heard of the weapon from Justin. Heck, he had even seen pictures of the heretic in question, proffered by Shinigami-sama and even, at times, Stein. He was, after all, one of the most sought after instigators to the disruption of peace. Spirit had to memorize the beast's face, just in case he ever ran into him on the street. He knew all about Sou but, at the same time, there were so many things he had yet to learn about him.

The spiky brown hair was just as threatening looking as the sharp daggers. Cold, harsh brown eyes that bore down into your very soul. Teeth-- oh, _God_, the teeth! They were pointed horrendously. _That can't be natural,_ Spirit thought, his stomach flopping at the thought of that man biting anyone. _Did Giriko self-saw them down to be like that? They look like a chainsaw's blades! Is this the man that's literally stalked Justin on the battlefields? _He shuddered. He hadn't an idea that a monster such as this existed.

Growling, Giriko stopped inches from their trembling forms. He looked around, smelling the air. Something had caught his attention. He couldn't quite put a name to what he was smelling, though. The current weather was messing with him. He couldn't hear right, too, with the strong wind pushing around leaves and branches. "Graaahll...!! Fuckin' oncomin' rain screwin' wit' my senses..."

Spirit shrunk back, dragging a limp Justin further down with him. Both of the men gazed upwards at him, studying the independent weapon's strained-- and rather pissed off-- face. Studying the chainsaw's face, the scythe instantly felt Justin's aura. The boy may have looked perfectly fine on the outside, but his soul was trembling inside. Spirit hadn't the gift to virtually see souls, like Stein could, but with the tight bond he had formed with Justin he could literally _feel _what the boy was feeling, even when the boy tried to hide it. This came in handy especially considering how emotionless the boy had been, and _still_ was. Studying Justin's blue eyes usually yielded nothing if the boy was hiding his true feelings. Only Spirit, these days, could ever tell what was wrong with the young priest.

Justin had been fixated on Giriko. Even with him lying in Spirit's protective arms, the boy was terrified beyond all reality. His mouth was parted a little, much like he was having a hard time gulping in air. His eyes were wide, having an almost glassy sheen to them.

Gently squeezing the boy, Spirit rested his chin down on Justin's shoulder, trying desperately to comfort him. He knew they were mortal enemies, probably destined to snuff the life source of each other on some wayward battlefield sometime in life, but he still hated to see the young priest so shaken.

What seemed like hours drug on, even though it was barely even a minute that had ticked on by. After a hesitated pause, Spirit saw Giriko move on, grumbling down the path. He noticed that the fear in the boy never left. He looked around the priest's shoulder in order to see him better. Justin had squeezed his eyes shut tight, he hands clamped down on his robe. His fingers were shaking maddeningly as he was pulling downwards on the material, almost as if to protect something. Then it hit Spirit. It didn't take long before the scythe understood. Justin's hands were desperately trying to cover a certain spot. He was trying to protect his crotch area. Of course, that area hosted a _particular_ part of a male that was used often in sex. Any person would know that. It didn't take a genius to figure out why Justin was so scared in the first place after seeing Giriko.

Looking away, Spirit felt sick with disgust. He not only wanted to vomit, right then and there, but he wanted to rip the chainsaw's head clean off his shoulders. Just seeing what Justin was whimpering about made him want to scream. He didn't want to ever think the boy had suffered like that in the past, present _or_ future. It didn't matter! He knew that he had raped the boy a long time ago, but he had turned it around into something good and had formed a loving relationship. A man like Sou wouldn't do that. He'd keep torturing the poor boy over and over with some masochistic glee.

Seconds passed and Spirit could feel Justin relax in his arms once more. The priest had gone limp, his breathing pattern calm and normal. Satisfied that the boy wouldn't stress himself out into a heart attack, the scythe risked it by sitting up, peeking over the tall grass. Sure enough, there was Giriko, taking his time in lumbering down the path. He let out a sigh of relief. As much as he wanted to charge after the man, he knew he couldn't. He wanted to slam him to the ground so he could squeeze the truth to the location of his son out of the man's windpipes, but he couldn't risk it. Just not now. It wasn't the right time to do that. They still didn't know too much of what was going on.

It made Spirit's heart shrivel up knowing that he was letting the man who kidnapped their son walk by. He did everything in his power not to lose it completely. He felt like garbage, but he knew he had to be wise about it. Losing one's emotions in a badly planned situation only meant the cards tipped in their enemies' favor.

"Spirit... let me go."

Taken aback in surprise, Spirit blinked, diving back down into the weeds and grass just in case Giriko had heard that soft voice. He didn't doubt the chainsaw had a fantastic repository of heightened senses. Cradling Justin close to him, he shook his head. "Not right now," he murmured. His voice, even though it was barely a whisper, it still cracked with suppressed tears. He put his hand on the boy's head, ruffling his hair sadly, as he pressing the boy's face to his broad chest. "We shouldn't blow our cover just yet. Let's follow him and see where he goes."

There was a few seconds of silence. Off in the distance they heard Giriko yell something out in anger, followed by a few hits and slams against a tree. Spirit felt himself sweating. That man must have a few screws lose.

"...Let me _go_."

"I told you," Spirit started once again, sighing. He turned the boy around in his arms, so now the boy was looking him in the eyes. "Justin, I don't-----G--GEH!"

Spirit stared at the young priest with a mixture of fear, shock and horror. Justin's head was hung a little bit, his bangs falling in his face. He looked almost dead, his face pallid and devoid of emotion. That wasn't the scariest thing about him. No... what terrified Spirit most of all was the boy's eyes. The blue was completely gone. His eyes were black! As black as the abysmal night sky, not a shred of light filled the boy's unnerving gaze.

Letting go of Justin at once, the scythe couldn't help but gulp. Justin's soul had changed it's aura, too. Instead of being so flighty and cowardly, his soul broiled calmly of both rage and power. The boy's willpower had become as resolute as tempered steel.

What had happened? Why was his lover looking like this? Even when Spirit temporarily shut his eyes tight, all could do was imagine those disturbing black eyes. Those eyes, as deep as obsidian and as soulless as ever, had stared back at him. It had chilled his blood. He had never thought that sweet, oftentimes shy but always caring boy priest could hold a inner blood lusting demon such as _that_ inside of him.

What now? What was going to happen? Had Law actually gone and lost it? Spirit shook his head, snapping back to reality. He was about to say something to the boy but found himself alone in the tall grass. He yelped, scrambling to his feet, catching sight of Justin as he stepped onto the beaten down pathway, turning to face the direction Giriko had gone. The scythe had been so lost in his denial that he didn't notice that the boy had left their bushy hideaway.

What was the boy doing? He was blowing their cover! Spirit tripped over the grass surrounding him as he rushed towards his lover. With a frantic snap of the head he looked down the pathway. Giriko was gone. Thank God for that. Spirit really didn't want to have to face the chainsaw with, apparently, his mentally unstable lover throwing himself out in harms way.

Reaching Justin, he instantly got in front of him, blocking the boy's eyesight down the path. He hoped by doing that he'd break the boy's unnerving concentration and need to run after the man, basically singing to be beheaded.

"Justin... what were you _thinking_?!" Spirit clamped his hands down hard on the boy's shoulders, squeezing the mantle instinctively out of a purely fearful adrenaline rush. He saw Justin briefly look up at him, then straight ahead again, seemingly right through Spirit. At least his eyes were a normal blue again. Those black eyes of his had made his blood run cold. "Were you _wanting_ to blow our cover? Were you wanting to die?!"

All Law did in order to reply was absolutely nothing. He didn't look at Spirit, and he didn't mutter a complaint, protest or comment. All he did was inhale and exhale, his eyes fixated on Spirit, his mind gazing down at the path behind the man. He seemed oblivious to everything, as if he was dead to the entire world around him.

Feeling the hairs rise on the back of his neck, Spirit tried to ignore it. It was nothing, right? Just his nerves coupled with his intensified imagination right now. He had to concentrate on getting Justin back into the safety of their hideaway. "Listen...we need to get back under cover. We'll follow Giriko from behind the safety of the bushes. If we go out and just rush after him, then we'll---"

"Move."

Spirit blinked, his emerald eyes swirling with confusion. He looked at Justin's face. The boy was stoic, an all to familiar but dreaded emotionless mask that made the priest hard to read. "...Justin...? What did you just—NGH-!"

Spirit felt his side slammed into by a taunt fist, pushing him back a bit, and he soon could feel the pull of gravity take effect. He quickly tried to reach out and grab onto the boy's robes or mantle- anything, basically, as long as he could keep his balance. He fell, seemingly forever, staring at Justin with a look of both a hurt sadness and a confused betrayal. The boy just watched him, almost lazily, from the corner of his eye.

Justin had hit him. Justin had _hit_ him! Why? Why on earth did his lover lash out at him, pushing him over with such a force?

When the scythe hit the ground, he let out a muffled cry of surprise. It didn't hurt him as much as Justin's action had. His heart was aching. He hadn't a faintest idea what had come over the boy. He was about to sit up when he heard a sinister noise. It raked across the air, shrieking and squealing as the metal ground against each other. The sound sent jitters to race up Spirit's spine, and he felt himself momentarily paralyzed with fear. Mustering up enough courage, he quickly sat upright only to find him scoot back instinctively out of terror.

There was Justin, blade manifested and raised up in a sort of defense. There was Giriko, engine revved and blades rotating, scraping against the boy's guillotine blade edge. Sparks flew, lighting up their faces and casting strange dancing shadows as they stood there, only inches apart from each other.

Scrambling to his feet, Spirit wasn't quite sure what to do at this moment. He wanted to protect his lover and jump into the fray, but he also knew he couldn't get close without getting possible damage- most likely severe- done to him.

Rearing back his leg, Giriko struck again, lunging forward, causing the boy to take a instinctive step backwards. Slicing through the air, the saw's rotating blades screeched viciously seconds before the attack was parried, and he was pushed aside.

Over and over, the two went at it. Metal clanging and scraping against metal, it became extremely loud, disturbing what fauna was still around. Spirit watched, amazed. The movements that the two fought with seemed almost to be orchestrated, like they had practiced the moves over and over until they could pull them off efficiently and without hesitation. If Spirit hadn't know this was a life and death thing, he almost would have thought it was some sort of show, or play.

Each attack was brutal and full of power. Giriko would step forward, using his blades and chains to lash out with an attack. Meanwhile Justin would back up a step or two, putting distance between him and the attack radius, before swiping his his blade thus parrying each one with expert skill. Giriko resembled nothing more than a ox. He was strong and powerful, bullheaded with his attacks. He was brazened and heavy footed, repeating each motion with pure rage fueling his best intentions. Justin, on the other hand, was like a lithe panther, moving in and out of the attacks, dodging them with ease. Each slash, swipe or parry that he produced with his guillotine blade moved as free flowing as water trickling down a calm stream.

Spirit held his breath, trembling. Emerald eyes wide, he took in the scene before him. Giriko's maddened cries and yells, and Justin's small grunts and groans of discomfort whenever his blade raked against the grinding chains. He had to do something...! He couldn't just stand there and watch! What if he was watching Justin's execution? He'd never forgive himself! He focused his mind, willing his feet to move, but he felt as if chains were binding his legs to the soil. He couldn't budge an inch. He was about to yell, demanding them to stop, when he felt a jolt run up his spine.

There had been a cry of pain. That cry of pain, that voice, was familiar. With his heart clutched tightly in his chest, Spirit watched as Justin, who was off balance a little, stumble backwards. The boy was flailing out with his arms a little, trying desperately to keep upright. A spurt of blood squirted from a deep gash on his side. Giriko had did a double trick. He had pulled up two of his chains, looping a portion around each fists so he could lash them out like whips at different times. Justin had been too preoccupied reflecting one that he didn't see the other one until it was too late.

Giriko saw the boy pushed backwards, and he grinned wickedly. Charging forward, he pulled up another chain. Wrapping it around his fist once again, he had it looped and prepared. "Like that, ya fuckin' dog?!"

Wincing a little, Justin stood there, a hand clamped to his side. Blood trickled from between his fingers. He blinked, looking at Giriko coldly. His blade glistened with what few rays peaked out from between the foliage. He was about to attack, as was Giriko, when they both halted. Something was in their way.

His arms thrown out, and a blade protruding from each one, Spirit stood there blocking the manic chainsaw's pathway towards Justin. Emotions calm now, he glared at the man. He would gladly self sacrifice himself as long as his lover got free, unscathed.

Retreating his attack before it began, Giriko took a few steps backwards. Growling, he pointed at the red head in rage. "Real fuckin' cute, Law! Yer havin' a bodyguard trot around with you, keepin' ya safe. And usin' God's precious weapon, to boot. Yer real fuckin' egotistical, huh? Thinkin' high an' holy of yerself!"

Trying to keep himself from getting angry, Spirit repressed a snide comment. Nasty, bitter words would only fuel the fury of a guy like this. What was the use, anyway? He could tell this man wouldn't even like peacefully ended arguments. A guy like this had to be top dog all the time.

"S—Spirit..." Justin moved around so he stood more at the scythe's side. He gently pushed down one the man's one arm, rubbing his thumb gently over the protruding scythe blades. He smiled, happy to see Spirit, in return, lower his arms and retract his blades completely. He then clicked his tongue, looking towards Giriko, his expression stony once again.

"Hah..." Wiping his nose with his thumb, Giriko smirked. "That was rather excitin'. I haven't had that sorta thrill in a long time. Yer still in top form as ever, arentcha 'Father'? It's been a year, hasn't it?" His words rang with a slight sarcastic edge.

Placidly smiling, the guarded expression never quite left the boy. He raised his hand a bit, almost as if it was a peaceful gesture. "It has"

Almost dumbfounded, Spirit looked between the two. Like a member of the audience at a tennis match, he flicked his attention from the chainsaw, to Justin, then back again. He was confused. Moments before they were wanting to rip each other to shreds. Now they were chatting idly. The atmosphere was still a little tense, but they looked more at ease. Was this some strange new way that long time villains bonded before gutting each other? Any second Spirit expected tea and crumpets to be served between the two-- surely laced with arsenic, that is.

Giriko glanced at Spirit before directing his attention back at Justin. He spit a wad of saliva on the already moist ground. "Ya know, you two are pretty sad when it comes to hidin' yerselves. I knew you were there, in that grass." He winkled his nose, his eyes deepening in color. They were a blackish-brown now. "I could still fuckin' smell ya, ya damn religious dog. After all a year, I still remembered yer scent. You still stink of yer claimed 'holy righteousness'."

"I think you're mistaking that for the frankincense," Justin purred back. He was almost enjoying this banter. "Besides, I can't smell as bad as you do. You still reek of day old alcohol and putrid oil--- but who's to complain here?" He raised his upturned palms, shrugging his thin shoulders. He let out a sigh. "You wouldn't listen even if I did."

"WHAT DID YA FUCKIN' SAY?!"

"_THAT'S_ _ENOUGH__!_"

Both Giriko and Justin stared at Spirit. The scythe had a throughly angered look on his face. Fists clenched, he stared long and hard at the chainsaw. His blood was raging, and he was doing all he could from grabbing the man and smashing his brains against the nearest tree.

Clicking his tongue, Giriko took a tentative step back. That scythe pissed him off. Even though he acted like he didn't know Justin brought the Deathscythe along, he truly knew it. In fact, the Priest had halted his plans. Asura had warned the chainsaw that Spirit, the Shinigami's weapon, would be with Justin. He was told all about him. The plan was to kill the Deathscythe, when his guard was down, from behind. Well, when Justin pushed him aside and attacked, that boy had literally saved Spirit's life. His blades had been aimed at the scythe, not for the guillotine.

By getting rid of Spirit, Giriko would have completed one of two things. One, he would have broke down Justin just enough to leave the boy either incapable of fighting back, or so mentally unstable that he wouldn't know what he was doing. His thick, steel fortress would be torn down. Second thing, by killing Spirit, he wouldn't have physically hurt Justin. This meant that he could take advantage of the boy being wracked with grief. Torture would ensue... among other pleasurable things, perhaps. He'd degrade the boy as much as he could before the final beheading. He wanted to show the boy just how much he loathed his very existence before killing him.

Justin glanced at Spirit, his look full of worry. Spirit's eyes had a strange flame to them. They were burning, full of wrathful revenge. He gently reached out, grabbing onto the man's sleeve, tugging on it. His wound? He forgot about it, no matter how much it stung.

"Giriko Sou," Spirit snarled, trying to keep his voice steady. "I'm tired of playing games with villains like you. You have my son, don't you?"

Smirking, the chainsaw stuck a finger in his ear, wiggling it around in a mocking gesture of cleaning out his earwax. "Son? Ya have a son, scythe?"

"Don't play stupid with me!" Spirit bellowed, his eyes flaring. Taking a few quick strides, he grabbed the heretic by the collar. Pulling the man close, he stared at him, his green eyes meeting the milky brown of the independent weapon's. "I know you have our son, Jordon. Tell me where he is, and I just may save you from an early trip to the grave."

Giggling like a devilish imp, Giriko took pleasure in seeing how rattled the normally calm scythe was. He shrugged his brutish shoulders, sticking out his tongue. "Like I would know were the fuckin' brat is. I dun have him under my care anymore more."

Sucking his breath in a gasp, Justin walked over, standing beside Giriko. Full of dread, he hadn't expected two-- or possibly _more_-- in this plot to destroy his family's lives. Angry tears beginning to fall, he felt his soul shake in rage again. "Not in your care anymore?! What does that mean?" Hearing the Chainsaw grunt at his question, he reached over, laying his blade up against his neck. His eyes began to darken again, as did his voice as he hissed out the words, "speak, or die, heretic..."

"Fine, fine." Rolling his eyes, he managed to shrug the two off of him. Plunging his hands into his pockets, he snorted down a wad of snot. "I'm not the only one in this freakin' plot. In fact... I'm jus' a lackey in this." He looked away, his eyes full of resentment.

"Who's the leader?"

"That fuckin' Kishin, that's who."

Feeling like they were sucked into a swirling under tide, Spirit and Justin felt that their lungs were failing them, as were their heart. They were drowning in this news, thrashing against the tides of fate. The Kishin? That dreaded demon God was behind this? It felt like a nightmare. Oh, it felt like a nightmare! If it wasn't for the soft feeling of of cold rain speckling downwards from the heavens above, the two lovers would think they really were in some twisted dream.

"T----The Kishin?!" Justin yelped, instantly clasping both of his hands around his cross. He backed up a little, away from Giriko and Spirit, as his mind reeled. He was always told to defeat any Kishins that cropped up over the years, but to have one actually _steal_ their child away from them was _unfathomable_.

Grinding his teeth together, Spirit took another threatening step towards the man. "Where is the Kishin?"

"How should I know?" Giriko lazily rolled his head to the left, motioning for the way he came. "I bet he went back to tha' warehouse on the edge of this forest. Yah, like I would know though. He might 'ave moved on by now."

Torn between stopping Giriko and getting his son, Spirit stood there, not sure what to do. However, a tug at his suit jacket made him look at Justin. The boy's eyes were determined, but desperately pleading. The message in those blue eyes were crystal clear.

'_Don't worry about Giriko. Follow your heart. Get back our son, Spirit...'_

Eyes full of sorrow and concern, Spirit leaned over, giving a quick, parting nuzzle to Justin. Kissing him on the cheek, his lips were brief and gentle, much like a butterfly landing on the boy's skin. With slight hesitation on leaving his lover to fight the chainsaw on his own, the scythe at last turned and fled down the pathway.

Speeding on, lungs pushed to the limit of bursting, he plunged deep into the thicket and shrubbery. Running on, he heard an angered scream, followed by the squeal of clashing metal._ Hold on, Justin, hold on, _he thought, scared knowing what those sounds were. _I'll save our son and come back for you. I swear of this, even if it's the last thing I ever do. I won't let our family even die apart from each other._

The bushes and trees became a green and brown blur as he surged on. Getting a headache from the combined source of his stress and fatigue he was shoving onto his body, he finally found himself breaking through the trees. Feet slapping against the wet grass, he skid to a sloppy halt.

Rising before him, like some derelict castle, was a crumbling warehouse. Scowling, he wondered to himself if it was _the_ warehouse that Giriko had mentioned. _I bet he went back to tha' warehouse on the edge of this forest. _Those words echoed in the back of his head. Honestly, he had to take a chance. He had to just try and see if his son was here, caught in the clutches of that damnable Kishin.

Horrendous images flashed through Spirit's brain. Mutilated, blood spattered all over, a terrified cry, his sad eyes looking up at him, pleading for help. The wet sound of bones being snapped in half, the flesh being devoured, all because a tiny soul would rise up from the mangled small body. The Kishin devouring-- oh, God, him devouring Jordon! Overwhelmed, Spirit found himself fall back against a tree. He held his head for a moment as the images rampaged through his head like a tornado or realization.

Spirit took his hands away from his face in shock. Glimmering tears coated his fingers and palm. He had been sobbing, almost uncontrollably, during his episode of fear. Sniffling, he steadied himself. Wiping his eyes on the back of his sleeve, he became grimly serious. Taking a few steps towards the destroyed gate that blocked the warehouse off from the rest of the world, he narrowed his sights on that warehouse.

He didn't care how far it took. He was going to get his son back and end this nightmare, once and for all.

With an angered scream, Giriko lunged forward as Spirit departed them. Whipping out his bladed chains, he aimed for killing the man for good. However, once again, his vengeful plans were foiled as Justin shifted over in Giriko's path, his blade flashing out and greeting the blades face-to-face.

Heaving a great slash, the man discharged from Justin's offense, recoiling a little. Curling back his lips in a slimy sneer, his pointed teeth flashed dangerously with the intent to kill. "Ya know, ya fucker... if yer trying to save yer precious lit'le lover, yer not going to get very far. I'll kill ya on the spot!"

Justin tilted his head to the side, watching the chainsaw. He was silent. He knew he could very well die, but he also knew he had to try. For Spirit, and Jordon's sakes, he had to try to cause a distraction to protect his family.

"Not gonna talk, are ya, fuckin' dog?"

Shifting down into a defensive position, Justin inwardly flinched as he hear a great peel of thunder rumble across the land. Seconds later, he felt the hard, cold rain slam down upon his seemingly fragile form. Instantly he felt his robes become a little heavy on him, soddened from the rain. This would make it harder to move, for sure, but he wouldn't give up so easily.

Screaming out, Giriko slapped at the raindrops falling as they plummeted down onto his head and shoulders. "F—Fuckin' RAIN! Goddammit!" Glaring at the priest, his hair dripping with great beads of water, he bared his teeth, his eyes filled with a maddening insanity. "If I fuckin' rust, it's yer HEAD!"

Finding it a little amusing hearing that, Justin turned on his heel and fled into the forest. He pushed aside the wet leaves and overhanging branches as he raced along a invisible path. It wasn't long before he heard the chains revving up and the man crashing after him.

This was going to be a very difficult evening.

* * *

**Chapter by: Wolf**


	16. The Game Begins

**Chapter 16: The Game begins**

Gulping down the lump that had formed in his throat Spirit stepped forward through the broken gate. The one that, only an hour at most before and unknowingly to him had been ripped by its hinges by none other than Sou. As if on cue the wind picked up into a strong momentary gust causing both his hair and clothing to whip around before calming, if only a little, once again.

Somewhere inside that building was his son. Unfortunately so was the Demon God, Asura. He could feel the insanity resonating from deep within the warehouse, but while the task at hand was daunting the thought of being unable to save his son frightened him more.

Straightening his tie the scythe started his way across the cracked concrete where knee high weeds and dying grass had pushed up through. First Albarn had to find an entrance, which ended up proving to be rather difficult thanks to the vegetation that had seemingly consumed the majority of the building. However finding a heavy rusted door behind a tangle of ivy he decided he didn't have time to waste and that this would have to do.

Tearing the vines from their place he tossed them to the ground, their leaves shivering in the wind as the storm gradually but progressively became worse. Large rain drops were falling from the clouds now, speckling the ground with dark moist dots. Stepping back to the door Spirit proceeded to yank at the knob in attempts to pry the door opening. No luck. It was locked, and if that wasn't enough it was rusted shut as well. With a groan of frustration the death scythe lifted his leg before driving it forward ramming it into the ancient barrier. As a result chunks and crumbs of rust plummeted from its outer layer and to the ground as a low hollow reverberation echoed through the internals of the warehouse. Cocking his head to the side he realized something. Perhaps his little unintentional act of frustration could help him. Lifting his leg a second time he kicked at the door with force, now with the intention to _try_ and kick it in. A second echo was heard from within the warehouse, but along with that a cracking was also heard as the door seemed to give way under his foot. Pulling his leg away and putting it back down on the ground he paused a moment as if waiting for the door to cave in. But the only motion came from the leaves of plants dancing in the gales, and the only sound being that of the groaning of the old building. Reaching for the knob he discovered that he had broken the lock, as well as some rust that had sealed the door shut. Bracing himself against the door he gave a forceful shove against it, and at last after a bit of a struggle he had drove it open just enough to squeeze through. Stepping inside as he wiped his shoulder of the corrosion that had clung to his suit jacket, his footsteps echoed through the vast and vacant room.

Gray light seeped through the door and into the hallow space, illuminating the dust particles in hung in the air as well as revealed the mud and puddles that were the floor. Patches of concrete and plants were also seen, beneath the filth and more noticeable in higher parts of the uneven floor. He could hear the drops of water every so often but aside from that and the brewing storm outside, inside was only silence.

"Jordon?" The red-haired man called however it was more hushed than he had originally meant it to be.

The atmosphere was thick with anticipation and uneasy. It almost seemed like enough to physically choke the man who stood by the entrance. "Jordon? ... Buddy? You there?"

No reply. Taking a deep shaky breath Spirit found himself stepping forward, his black shoes squishing through the layer of mud and sloshing through the murky puddles of water and oil. Now on the other side of the room he stepped through a partially open door that opened to a short staircase that led downward into a dark abyss. No windows over head filled this room with light, and if there were windows it wouldn't have surprised Spirit if they had been depraved of their light thanks to vines and leaves. Grasping the railing, which Albarn noticed felt rather rusted under his touch, he took one step after another down the short flight of stairs. As far as he could tell this room was vacant as well. The light from across the previous room was barely able to reach this one, but from what he _could_ tell it appeared there were large structures in the far corner, most likely machinery for the saw mill. His thoughts however were interrupted when his shoe was suddenly filled with a thick slimy and icy liquid. He gagged smelling a foul odor raise from the stagnate substance and prayed that it was just water, though the texture of the substance didn't help to reassure him. Making it to the last step, he found himself waist deep in the sludge. He felt dirty and disgusted, but forced himself to push on. He couldn't give up simply because of some putrid smelling substance he had to wade through.

By now his eyes had somewhat adjusted to the dark. But when he felt something brush past his leg he shuddered and only ended in squeezing his eyes shut, not really wanting to be able to see, and trying to push the thought of what it might be out of his head. Opening his eyes once more he called out again, "Jordon?"

He reached the other side of the room now, and lifting his hand Spirit searched over the surface for any sort of exit. At last his fingers came across a ledge that was at about the height of his neck. He traced the ledge with his finger tips feeling the outline of the opening trying to determine if it would be large enough for him to fit in. Deciding it would be a big enough, though most likely a tight fit he went for it. With a grunt Spirit heaved himself up wiggling his broad shoulders through the opening. Once in he realized how small it really was. He swore if it wasn't for the sludge on his body he probably wouldn't have been able to squeeze himself through the vent. Right about now he really wished he had the lanky form of his lover and not the muscular build that he did.

Army crawling through the vent he struggled his way further into the warehouse, having no idea where he was going only hoping that it would put him out near where Asura held his son captive. He shivered when he felt a chilly draft, however also found it a relief. That vent had been near to unbearably stuffy up until then, and it also meant that he was coming to another opening. Inhaling the sweet scent of oxygen and freshly fallen rain only resulted in making Spirit want to continue on faster and further. It wasn't long before he at last reached the grate opening in the vent, and with a relatively simple punch the door was sent tumbling from its both rusted and bolted position clattering to the stone floor below. Now it was just a matter of getting out without falling to the concrete headfirst.

Not without difficulty was the Scythe finally able to release himself from the vent and land on the cracked concrete where grass pushed up through. Taking a quick survey of his surroundings he came to the conclusion that he was in some sort of courtyard. All around him were outdoor covered walkways that lined the building. Thankfully there were bashed in doors and broken windows otherwise he could've very well found himself trapped in this concrete cage overgrown with vegetation. The rain was pounding down heavily, like the very dams of heaven had been destroyed. It didn't even take a minute after escaping the vent before Spirit would've found that he was soaked to the very bone with chilly drops of the precipitation.

"Jordon! Jordon! Can you hear me?" He called out before taking a step forward and more toward the center of the courtyard. However feeling a small cold wet hand grip his index finger his heart fluttered and raced as did his mind with joyous emotions.

His son! HIS SON! Tears welled in Albarn's eyes as he slowly began to turn. His lip trembled, suggesting he may cry thanks to this overwhelming sensation of relief and happiness. He could feel all the burdens and fears he had been carrying for the past week lift off his shoulders. He felt he could move freely. No longer was he frightened, no longer did he fear the future! No! It didn't matter because now he had his son! He could get back to Justin, and they could go home! GO HOME! Where they would be safe, where no one could try to pry this family apart ever again; they could live happily, they could live peacefully. They could be a carefree family once again. "JORDO! BUDDY!" He cried out in complete bliss, "THANK THE LOR—"

His joy died away in an instant. Like a fly smacked by a swatter, it was gone in a blink of an eye. No longer existent. Dead. There behind him stood none other than the Demon God. The pupils within his pupils were staring straight into the very core of Spirit's soul.

A horrified and devastated expression replacing his once joyous visage the man frantically looked down toward his hand breaking the trance into one another's eyes that they previously shared. That wasn't a child's fingers that had grasped his own, but in fact a cold wet silky tendril that had clamped around his hand. His body trembled as he felt all those past thoughts of relief and happiness fade out of his life. It wasn't Jordon. Hurriedly looking around he found that Jordon wasn't even with Asura. So then where was he! Where was his son! He could feel his hope shatter like a thousand glass shards clattering to the floor. He had hung onto hope and faith for so long, through this all. But in all honesty, his optimism and hope was running on empty, and now finding the Demon God and no Jordon he realized for the first time on their search that perhaps Justin and he were in over their heads.

Yanking his shaking hand away he took several stumbling steps back. His fists clenched as did his teeth, and the man's eyes narrowed. However tears now of distress rather than bliss still filled his teal and now dulled eyes. "Where is he?" He snarled in a low growl sounding almost deadly and certainly dangerous.

"My, my, the Death Scythe has a bit of a temper this afternoon, doesn't he?" Asura mocked, his eyes watching this red-head without the slightest amusement.

"Shut the hell up! I asked you a question! I WANT MY ANSWER!"

"I asked you a question as well, did I not? I'm appalled by your behavior," He purred calmly, as his eyes focused on his slender boney fingers which he now examined. His gaze then snapped up threateningly at the weapon. "Or did you forget your manners?"

Spirit growled in frustration, this God really knew how to get on his nerves. "Well what the hell do you think!" He snapped in reply to his comment Asura had mentioned before, "Of course I'm pissed! Now where is my son!"

"Wouldn't you just love to know," Asura smirked before taking a step forward, Spirit taking a step back.

Why couldn't kishins and witches just melt from the touch of water like how they did in Hollywood productions? It would make life so much simpler! Of course no one ever said life was easy. Taking a deep breath the weapon tried to calm himself. He knew the kishin was trying to fuel his anger and frustration. He knew the God was going to try and break him down so that he could rip away the barrier he blocked out the insanity with. He couldn't allow that. If he did he was automatically the loser of this match.

"I ask again… Where is Jordon?"

Asura sighed, his eyes calming looking over Spirit's features, studying him. "He's safe… for now. That's all you really need to know."

That was at least a relief to Albarn. His boy was alive, that sparked some hope.

"Death scythe, let's play a game."

"A game?" Spirit narrowed his eyes, a look of slight confusion replacing the frustration on his visage. "What do you mean?"

"It's like hide and go seek tag."

A sickening feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. This wouldn't end well. "What's the catch?"

"I'll give you a head start to find your son… He's somewhere within this mill… to give you even more of a clue, he's in an empty store room. Find him and I'll let you both go free…" The demon god explained.

That sounded simple enough. Spirit nodded understandingly, but waited, there was more to it though, and he knew it. Therefore he waited for the god to continue.

"However, after a short head start I'm coming after you… If I find you before you find him, both you and he will be killed. Your souls devoured."

Albarn shuttered. This game suddenly didn't appeal to him in the least bit. "I don't have a choice in this, do I?"

"No, no you don't, because if you refuse to participate in my game, you will be killed this instant." Asura said bluntly with a smirk.

"And when do you wish to start?"

"The game begins now."

* * *

**Chapter by: Sporkie**


	17. Crimson Tears and Bloody Thorns

**Note:**** Sorry everyone for the long period of time it took to get this latest chapter up. Things have been a bit hecktic. Not to mention with Summer here my family and I have been out of town quite a bit. Don't blmae wolf though, She finished this chapter quite a while ago, it's my fault for not updating. Once again, sorry for the wait.**

**

* * *

****Chapter 17: Crimson tears and bloody thorns**

"GET BACK HERE, YA FUCKIN' BASTARD!"

There was a great earsplitting crack, followed by a earth shaking crash, as a young tree fell down and slammed against the ground. Moments before, standing under said tree to catch his breath, had been Justin Law. He had narrowly leaped out of harm's way, just barely missing being smashed by the tree or tangled up in it's branches. It had been a very close call but, then again, for the past fifteen minutes he had been filled with terrifying moments of close calls and narrow misses.

Bounding off, the priest instantly hit the ground running. He surged on, plunging even deeper into the forest. He had to get as far away from Giriko, but still keep his sights to where he could somewhat still be near the mill just in case he had to help Spirit. His sides aching and heart racing, he tried to keep his senses alert. His auditory senses were screwed up, even _with_ his earbuds out. The rain was coming down so hard, and so fast, that everything around Justin was drowned out, no pun intended. Law hadn't ever been to a place with tropical weather, but he wondered if this hellish rainstorm could be compared to a rain forest squall or some strange monsoon. He almost wouldn't be surprised if he turned a corner and found Noah's ark just waiting there to herd the local fauna to safety.

Looking over his shoulder, he tried squinting through the sheets of rain. He didn't see Giriko. That was both a blessing, and a curse. It was a blessing due to the fact that meant the man wasn't directly behind him, ready to pounce on him. The bad part of that deal was that he didn't even know where the man _was_. That lead to being overwhelmed by a constant paranoia.

Looking back ahead of him, Justin noticed a slight fork in the path he was going. There was a large redwood right in his way. There were really only two paths to go. With panic mounting and time running out before he was caught, Justin took a risk. Surging down the left path, he turned a few corners sharply, his cross necklace slapping against his chest with each harsh movement. He was hoping to weave through the trees and make the independent weapon lose his trail.

As he was turning his fourth bend in his pathway, he felt his leg go downwards, making him instantly lose his balance. He felt the sickening feeling of mud sloshing up against his lower leg. With a yelp he stumbled with his movement. He glanced down at his left leg, instantly groaning. Up past his ankle, he had stepped in a small, but very deep, puddle. More or less, he had stepped down right into a flooded animal hole. _Don't tell me it's a gopher hole,_ Justin thought, a bit peeved and annoyed. Normally he would have laughed at this, finding it all to comical. However, at that moment in time, something as funny as that was a very big thing that decided whether his head got cut clean off his shoulders.

He had an idea that, after today, if he ever saw a gopher, he'd loathe it's existence for the rest of it's life.

Justin very well knew that he would lose precious time standing there. Yanking his foot out of the hole, he sighed. He was actually rather grateful. If the hole didn't have a little water in it, then he might have possibly twisted his ankle, falling from the hole in the dryer conditions. Shivering, he clenched his fists, trying his best to calm his nerves. _This blasted forest_, he thought. _Isn't it a brilliant place for a battle? It's almost like being back at home with this rain._

"There ya are, ya fucker!"

Whirling around on the spot, Justin faced the way he had came. He saw a sight that momentarily stopped his pounding heart, causing it to shrivel up and wither away.

There was a blinding flash that lit up the sky. Lightening jumped across the heavens above, it's forked body burning through the clouds as it sizzled with heat and energy. Everything around Justin was suddenly highlighted, brought out in contrast with a gamut of highlights and shadowing effects. That's when his blue eyes focused in on Giriko's face.

His mouth was open in a screaming snarl, spittle flying from his mouth. The chainsaw like teeth in the man's maw were illuminated with the flash coming from the heavens above. They were like glowing daggers now, poised and ready to sink into their target. His eyes were wild and deranged, much like some insane, rabid beast that had been starved for days on end. He also let out a serious of strangled, hoarse, maddening cackles. He resembled nothing more than some manic clown in a cheesy horror film.

Justin hadn't much time to protect himself before the spitefully enraged man collided with him. The priest felt a harsh, jabbing hit to his gut. Giriko had kneed him right in his unprotected stomach, causing him to temporarily lose his wind. Crouching down, he doubled over, his arms wrapped his stomach. His hands, cold and shaking, clutched at his robes as he opened his mouth, gasping for air.

Snickering, Giriko lashed out once again. The chainsaw grabbed at the young priest's mantle, bunching up a good portion of the material in his clenched hand. With a vicious, ungraceful yank he pulled the boy close to him so that they were now face to face. Spitting a wad of saliva at the younger kid's face, he snarled. "What's the matter, dog of the church? Speechless that some 'heretic' like me will be yer fuckin' downfall?"

Justin turned his face to the side, not really wanting to look at the man holding him captive. He was still wheezing, his mouth agape as he sucked in great amounts of oxygen. He felt shaky, and the rain was really getting to him now. His skin was cold, becoming sensitive to the touch.

Getting pissed that he wasn't producing some sort of reaction from the boy, Giriko lost another notch withholding his raving temper. Moving his hands he now grabbed the boy by the throat, squeezing his fingers around it. He heard a whimper as Justin instantly thrashed, his face screwing up in pain. "Speak, ya damn dog! Yer master's commandin' ya to SPEAK!"

"Master...?"

Giriko winced. That voice of Justin's sounded so terribly dark and harsh. He watched as Justin sharply looked up at him, his blue eyes churning with rebellion.

With a flash of metal, the independent chainsaw screamed out. Something had cut him! Something had sliced across his gut! Glaring down, he saw a thin line of blood forming. The boy's guillotine blade was right beside his cut clothing, as if threatening to plunge down into the man's intestines."You.. _are not_... my master," Justin drawled coldly. His gaze flickered up to the now worried face of his opponent. "_My_ master is my _God_. _My_ master is my _Lord_ and _Saviour_. Who are you to claim me as if I am some sort of animal?"

"Heh, religious prat," Giriko mumbled. He didn't deny that he was sweating bullets right now. Those eyes... something in the boy had changed. "Yer so damn brainwashed that-"

"I am _not_ brainwashed," the boy snapped, digging in his blade a little so it nicked the man's skin again. A portion of the blade had disappeared beyond the clothing, into the cut it made. "I choose to believe _what_ in what I want to because I have the freedom to do so. I don't condemn others for what they believe in, and _neither_ should _you_. You have the crass idea that you can own me like some sort of possession." Gritting his teeth, Justin tried to stop his body from shivering with the cold, soaking rain. "I am only owned by two beings willingly. My God, _and_ my lover."

Giriko's eyes instantly darkened at that word. 'Lover'. It pissed him off. Something akin to broiling jealousy started to fuel his anger. When envy and wrath meet, a deadly concoction is brewed. He hadn't a lover. For nearly 800 years he had longed for someone to _truly_ call his own. The hookers usually only lasted a night, and that wasn't good enough when the man held onto a lifetime of a sexual urge.

Here was a boy who had found love. His _enemy_, of all things, had found the one thing he had been lusting for for centuries now. Even in all his past lives, Sou hadn't achieved a single lover. Now, glaring into those blue eyes of the Priest, Giriko had the uncontrollable urge to take that liberty away from the boy. He wanted to be the one to control the boy.

Eyes widening, a sickeningly sinister thought came to his mind. Perhaps he could degrade the boy priest, making him live his life through hell. Who knows? Maybe he could pull it off. Maybe Giriko could get something he had longed for.

With a deranged snarl, Giriko reached out, his hand spread and ready to grab Justin's entire face. However, he was deterred. Law had brought his bladed arm upwards, catching the man's hand and knocking it aside. Back and forth the two fought. Throwing punches and deflecting others, the two moved in perfect harmony, resembling a fluid sort of savage dance.

"HOLD STILL SO I CAN KILL YA!"

Sliding to the side, just as Giriko lashed out with some of his bladed chains, he managed to dodge the attack entirely. Justin smirked almost playfully. Wagging a finger, he proclaimed in a chiding voice, "now, how absurd would it be if I gave up? You have to know your subject better than that. Just thinking I will give up so easily on my family...blasphemy!"

"SHUT UP!" Whirling around, Giriko screamed. Whipping out the chains again, he hoped to catch the boy off guard. However, he was surprised to find a foot on his chest. Confused, the chains wound tightly around his fists, he looked up a little. Time was seemingly slowing down as he saw what was happening. Justin was staring down at him, the kick connecting with the man's chest as the weapon was being forced downwards. Law had a detached look on his face, almost as if he wasn't feeling- let alone thinking- a single thing.

Stumbling backwards, wheezing a little, Giriko loosened a chain and chucked it, hard and fast, at the priest. The blades cutting through the air, it made a hissing noise as it headed right for the boy. "TAKE THAT, YA FUC-"

Leaping off of Giriko in an instant, almost using him as a type of support, Justin jumped and landed against a side of a nearby tree. Seconds later, with the chain heading his way, he leaped off that as well, soaring right past the weapon.

For a moment they both stared at each out from the corner of their eyes. Giriko facing one way, and Justin going the other. A inferno of hatred from one, and the embers of a cold fire still burning in the other. Each one wanted to kill the other. A caged animal, and a free one, were finally clashing in the secluded embrace of a desolated, waterlogged forest.

The second Justin finally hit the ground, he heard the chains rattling and clinking against each other right behind him. His enemy was preparing another attack. He whirled around on the spot, raising up his blade. Moving one foot in front of the other one, he began to rush right that the chainsaw.

Whipping out, almost like tentacles, Giriko threw out his chains at the charging boy. Each chain lashed against the Priest, the blades cutting into clothing and flesh alike. A squirt of blood splashed against Justin's cheek, causing him to wince. He had to keep going. He couldn't give up.

"GET THE HELL AWAY FR-"

"NO!"

Ducking under a chain that lashed out at him, Justin rose up in front of the man. His eyes completely black, he lashed out with his blade. Like butter, the weapon slid across the man's chest horizontally. It cleaved right through the man's shirt, and it produced a scream from the chainsaw.

Giriko knew this attack. Biting his tongue in pain, he gurgled out a strangled cry as he quickly wrapped the chains around his body. He didn't want to die. This attack could very well kill him if he wasn't careful and quick enough to protect himself.

A slash horizontally, followed by a vertical one. The blade raked across the protective chains, and Giriko stumbled back, his body shaken. _Holy Crucifixion Sword_. He hated that attack. Every time the Priest attempted to use it, Giriko was reminded all too easily as to _why_ the boy was a Deathscythe. Though seemingly weak and fragile looking, Law had the potentiality of becoming a murderer.

Seeing the man protect himself the same old way as he did countless times before, Justin got consumed in rage. Without thinking, or hesitation, he lunged forward, connected his elbow to the man's face. Knocking the chainsaw back against a tree, he watched as Giriko's head slammed backwards, hitting the bark of the trunk at a intense wave of force.

Silence. For a moment there, Giriko stood, leaning up against a tree. His eyes rolling back in his head, he let out a weak grunt before his body slowly collapsed at the base of the tree. A few spots of blood dotted the bark where the collision point was. Panting, Justin stayed rooted in one spot. He was panting, heaving, from the exertion he had gone through. Still in the flight and fight reflex drive, he jumped when he heard a peal of thunder practically overhead.

Was Giriko really knocked out? Was he _dead_? The questions swam in the guillotine's mind, but he didn't focus on that. He became all to aware of some shouting. Far off in the distance, he still could hear the voice, in panic, rising up against the monstrous gale. Deciding not to stick around to find out, Justin hurried away, heading straight towards the mill. Putting enough distance between the daze man- or possible corpse- was good enough. Besides, the closer Law got to the source of the calls, the more he noticed they were coming within the confines of the mill.

_"JORDON?"_

A strangled gasp made Justin skid to a halt. The rain slapping against his lanky form, he gaze up towards the towering heights of the mill. His eyes wide and brimmed with terrified tears, he felt his body begin to tremble again. This time it wasn't from the constant onslaught of the rain. This time it was from his soul.

_"JORDON! CAN YOU HEAR ME?"_

Taking a step towards the mill, Justin's eyes scanned the crumbling, archaic building. He had heard a shout. No... that had been Spirit's voice. He had shouted Jordon's name! His heart clenched in fear. Was that a good thing, or a bad thing? Hand fondling his cross, he began rubbing it here and there in order to eek some sort of comfort from the object and his faith. He had to think of the positives. What if Spirit had found their son before the Kishin found him? He tried straining his ears in order to hear anything else that could tip him off as to where Spirit was. That voice was coming from somewhere inside, but it was hard to tell. Still, he was thankful a majority of the windows, and even some walls, had crumbled and broken away. This gave a somewhat easier time at listening.

Walking slowly around the perimeter, Justin tried not to panic as he searched and scoured for a possible safe entrance. He felt that every step he took meant the difference between the two important things in his life dying or being saved.

"W-What am I going to do?" He whimpered, his hands rubbing against the thick, rough, weather-worn exterior of the building. The roughly chiseled surface, hacked away by years of rain and wind, scraped and irritated his hands, but he didn't care about that. He had to find some small crack, some opening he could, maybe, widen further.

_"SHUT THE HELL UP!"_

Going still, Justin didn't even dare to breath. He sucked his oxygen in, but refused to let it out. What...? That sounded like Spirit's voice, but he sounded angry.

_"I ASKED YOU A QUESTION! I WANT MY ANSWER!"_

What on earth was going on? Stepping back and away from the wall he was examining, he felt like retching purely from fear and anxiety. Something was amiss. Now, more than anything, Justin believed that his lover had run into the Kishin. Yelping, he flung himself at the wall, pounding on it hysterically until his fingers bled, leaving a small spatter against the dingy walls. He began scraping his fingers along it, clawing at each hole or crack he saw. He was frantic, now, to get in. Spirit couldn't fight that beast alone! Not without a meister, or another weapon aiding him!

He began to cry, now regretting his choice action to take Giriko on rather than the Kishin. Sure, Giriko was a hindrance, but more than likely Spirit could beat him easier than Justin had. The priest just couldn't stand to see the only ever real friend he had made torn to pieces by that monster. He had rather it had been him. To die by the hands of the Kishin were to plunge down into the fiery pits of hell and becoming incinerated, whilst still _alive_ to witness it all.

Silence. There was nothing. Hiccuping, tears still marring his already dirty face, Justin looked up cautiously at the building. He almost half expected Asura to be right in front of him. He wasn't though. Shivering, Justin clung close to the wall as another gust buffeted his small frame. Overhead the thunder kept up it's dangerous low rumbling, reminding the boy all too much of some massive tiger growling within this forest.

Heart beat suddenly picking back up, throbbing in a wild tattoo, he stood there for a few minutes on end. He was fixated on the mill; he couldn't leave. Every time his mind willed his legs to move, the only thing he would do was suck in another strangled breath. It was like watching some nail-biting football show on television. Justin's attention was wholly on the building and on his family, possibly fighting for their lives, inside of it. It was a game, ironically. Unknowingly to Justin, inside of that building Spirit was now just beginning his treacherous game of hide-and-seek.

He bit his bottom lip, trying not to cry. He had all but forgot about Giriko hunting him down in a maddening lust. He took another step towards the building, his entire body trembling.

What if Jordon was dead? What if Spirit were to die in there? A multitude of things could happen to either _one_ of them. What was going to happen? That alone drew Justin near to the brink of insanity. Standing there, pondering what sort of fate would befall his loved ones were cracking his mind apart, piece by piece.

"O-Ohhh, my Lord and Saviour," Justin crooned out in lovingly respect. He paused. His voice had cracked in more than one place, and his voice wavered like a leaf in the wind. This wasn't good. He clasped his hands together, closing his eyes and bowing his head purely out of respect. "My Lord and Saviour... please, p—protect my family from all harm or temptation that may come their way. Do not let them fall into darkness. Lift them up with your loving hands, and cast them from the shadows and unto the light."

At that moment the wind picked up, buffeting the trees and blasting into the boy. He winced, taking a step back. A gale? What was this, a tornado or a hurricane now? He braced himself, raising his voice to a shout so he could speak over the vile wind.

"Oh, my Lord! Please! Protect my loved ones, so they may live another day to bask in thy love and thy care! Do not let th-"

The sharp growl of a revving engine caught his attention, bringing him out of his thought process. Blue eyes widening in dread, Justin felt his blood run cold. That noise was all too familiar. He did not need this now. He was defenseless, his guard down, too shaky to do a thing.

Seconds later, Justin's head snapped back and he let out a hellish, ungodly shriek of agony. Instantly a wave of sublime, overpowering pain washed over him. Tears began streaming down his face, as his face was contorted in the pain of his perilous situation.

His robes, he felt them being cut. He could feel the material on his back get ripped though, fraying away from the rotating blades that were being raked deeply across his back. He felt the blades inside of him, several inches beyond his skin. He could feel the pain so vividly that he almost blacked out on the spot.

Giriko took his leg away from the boy. His blades were rotating from his foot all the way up to his thigh and back again. The teeth of the blades were now glistening with blood and microscopic fibers of a black material- those robes. He smirked, gazing upon the long, angry wound that he had caused. Clicking his engine into a pause, he let out a slimy sort of chuckle. "Heh. Gotcha!"

Slowly Justin sank down to his knees. His eyes dull with the severe amount of discomfort and raw pain he felt. He felt blood just pour from the wound, dribbling down his back in rivers. He had been cut deeply, and he knew that if he didn't get it to stop bleeding then he'd be in trouble. However, his mind was too fuzzy to think much of anything else. As he slumped forward, his frail body hitting the soddened earth below him, he let out a pathetic whimper that caused even Giriko to wince.

Breathing in, trying to suck shaky heaves of oxygen, Justin laid there curled up in a fetal position. His hand weakly clutched at his robes, as if to pull some imaginary blanket around him tighter. Tears brimmed his eyes, and he felt his head swim with nausea. He didn't like moving. He felt that his skin in shreds on his back. He didn't like this, one bit. He raised his face a little up off the ground as he glanced at the mill. He knew he had to get to Spirit, but he knew that there wasn't a chance for him to do so. Would he die here? He'd fail Spirit, and Jordon. He'd die uselessly.

Suddenly a jabbing force caused the boy to cry out and roll over. Giriko's boot had been jabbed right in his ribs, and he had kicked the young man so he now laid on his back. Looming over the fallen, scared, temporarily paralyzed boy, the chainsaw let out a intimidating sneer. Raising the same foot that kicked Justin and resting it lightly on the boy's stomach, he let the blades prick the boy's clothing, causing him to flinch from pure fear.

Justin was shaking. He _was_ going to die here. How could he, Justin Law, be this weak as to be fooled by Giriko's feint back there? He had let his guard down, and now he would lay upon the blood grass, his dismembered body glistening in the rain.

Rubbing his thumb against his bloodied, rough cheek, Giriko licked his lips. He couldn't wait for the boy to wheeze his last breath. "Why dontcha call out fer yer lit'l _lover_ so he can come an' save yer pansy ass. I'd _love_ to meet him fully this time."

Keeping his lips shut in a pursed straight line, Justin kept shaking in his robes. The grass and dirt was now sticking to him thanks to his blood. He didn't care though. He knew he shouldn't even scream with whatever the chainsaw had in mind. If he did, then Spirit could possibly hear, and he knew the man would be in a panic. If he had to die, he didn't want the Deathscythe to know.

Then it came. The intense wave of pain as the blades cut and cleaved through the boy's clothing and flesh easily. The grotesque squishing noise signaled that the blood had begun gushing forth once again, slapping wetly against the mill's nearest wall and any shrubbery or vines nearby. It splattered the ground in a sickening rain, speckling boy the victim and the predator in the face. The feeling of the blades rotating, cutting away a few inches inside his body, made every nerve in his being burn as if they were literally on fire. His entire body body was shaking, trembling uncontrollably.

Throwing back his head, his body contorted and twisted, Justin let out another scream. This time it was much louder, and with much more force. The agony was thickly laden in his crumpled form. Shrieking so loudly, to the point his vocal cords finally did give out and his voice cracked painfully, Justin started to feel his consciousness sucked out from under him. Clawing at the dirt and beneath his bloodied form, he weakly grabbed a fistful of wet grass in his clenched fist. This pain, it felt like his soul was being ripped from his body.

Taking his foot away, Giriko stopped tearing up the boy's side. He wanted to cut loose the boy's bowels, but that would have made his little game stop, so instead of cutting up the boy's stomach he put a harshly deep cut down on his side. He wanted to watch the boy die slowly, not _suffer_ fast and _die_ fast. Feeling his leg soaked in rainwater and blood, Giriko let out a contented grunt. He adored the smell of blood. It meant someone was possibly going to die, and he would be the source of that issue.

His body was going limp without him wanting to. What was happening? Justin's dim, but glassy eyes stared up at the storm overhead. He watched silently in agony as the clouds churned and broiled into a thick mass, highlighted occasionally by a passing bolt of lightening. Opening his mouth a little, he parted them just enough to mumble a few words. Nothing came out, though, and instead he found him closing them back up again when he felt the steady rain hit his lips. His voice box was far to raw, anyway. Who would hear his breathless pleas and prayers anyway? A deranged heretic hellbent on his destruction? His God was sure as heck not answering to his constant prayers during this whole ordeal. Now, he was going to die, and there was nothing anyone could do. His ball had rolled out of his courtyard and into the chainsaw's hands.

His eyes fluttered before they began to close. His heartbeat was slowing down in his chest, and he rather liked that feeling. His consciousness was being blacked out. It was as if someone was dumping a bucketful of black paint in his mind, and he was falling down into that void watery. Was he dying, right at that moment? Or was he simply passing out? If he _was_ dying, then he was ashamed at himself. He hadn't done a single thing, thus far, to help out. If he died, then he knew that Spirit would have to deal with not only the Kishin now, but Giriko. He'd have a hard enough time dealing with the demon God without the heretic causing more issues.

He glanced up, his body trembling from both the cold an pain. Giriko was hovering right over him, staring down at him with a spiteful look. Attempt to defensively let out a snarl, Justin felt his consciousness slip farther. Everything around him was blurry, now, and he couldn't make out his enemy's face. In fact, was his face changing all together...?

Where Giriko was standing, another being stood. The forest had become a small, cozy kitchen. A small boy's upturned face lit up with extreme happiness. Sparking blue eyes were gazing up at him as the little guy stood against the kitchen counter, a cookie in his small hand and crumbs still on his cheek. Fiery red hair matched a equally fiery, though young, heart.

His foggy mind had settled on a face before he went under: Jordon's.

With a final utterance of pain- a soft groan that escaped his lips- Justin's head fell limp, rolling to the side. His eyes shut lightly, he was serene, as if he was merely sleeping. As his bloody wounds kept seeping, he was blessed with sleep for he couldn't feel the pain.

Giving a grimace half between a smirk and a scowl, Giriko harshly grabbed the young man by the arm. Not caring around the boy's horrendous wounds on his back or side, he began dragging him against the ground, away from the mill. If Spirit _did_, by some miracle, defeat the Kishin, then he knew that Deathscythe would become like a mother grizzly bear if he saw Justin lying there like that, in his pathetic condition. Giriko really didn't need to have a manic, blood lusting scythe after his ass.

Dragging the boy behind him, he ran through a few things in his head. What would be a possible great way to kill his enemy, while still getting to watch him slowly die? Yes, he was that narcissistic, and he was _proud_ of how he was.

"Mmmnnn..." Giriko yawned, then winced. The cuts that Law had caused on his body still stung, and his head still ached. His eyes darkening viciously, he growled. The boy would pay for what he did to him. "So, let's see... I could possibly crush 'im with, I dunno... somethin' like a tree or-"

As a particularly fat raindrop fell on his nose, the chainsaw stopped mid sentence, blinking. Rain. Water. Ah ha, water! A slimy chuckle let lose as he began walking again, dragging his catch of the day. A little way's away was a river that the mill workers had once used for logging. Even though the logging facility wasn't working there, the river sure as heck was.

Water. He wanted the priest to wake up, seconds before drowning underwater. He wanted the boy to feel the crushing depth of the river and know he wouldn't be saved. He wanted to boy to experience hell on earth before dying a lone, solitude death.

"Hey, priest," Giriko laughed out as another peel of thunder rumbled across the forest. He glanced over his shoulder at the unconscious boy. Justin's face was pallid, strained with pain, but he was surely out. Looking back straight ahead, Giriko licked his lips, his tone light and mocking. "Wanna go fer a swim?"

* * *

**Chapter By: Wolf**


	18. Drowning Hopes

**Chapter 18: Drowning Hopes**

_The game begins now._ Spirit's heart raced as that phrase sank in. From this moment until he found Jordon or was killed he would be hunted. Just like an animal with a slim promise of victory. The man's heart rate quickened but it didn't take him long to turn on his heal and dash toward one of the broken windows that led into the buildings surrounding them. All but gracefully he leapt through one of the openings as if it were a hurdle, as he did so he winced in pain. His shin had caught on a shard of glass, ripping his slacks and tearing through his flesh, as well as cutting his hand when he grasped the window frame for support. He should've known not to touch it, however if he didn't it could have very well resulted in worse of an injury. Now across his hand was a straight line of crimson red that was on the verge of overflowing from the slice. Wiping it across his chest he stained his greenish gray dress shirt a dark red before he pressed on, not wanting to waste any of this precious time he had left. He counted the seconds in his head, though he was certain with all the other thoughts that swam through his mind, he had lost count more than just once. So his chances at predicting when the Demon God came after him were lost, that was if the Demon God even kept to his word about giving him a head start. Asura already had the advantage of knowing his way around the structure. Spirit was nothing more than a tourist trying to navigate their way through New York City without a map.

Albarn's heart pounded painfully in his chest as he ran as he frantically searched each room and corridor calling out his missing son's name. However, Room after room only brought further disappointment, and thanks to his heavy breathing and rapid heart rate he could barely hear anything over the intonations his body made. It wouldn't have surprised him if he actually missed a cry of help from Jordon. And that thought alone made his heart ache even more.

Spirit weaved through the mill, inside and out he went, through courtyards, outdoor halls, vast empty rooms and store areas filled to the brim with molding products or rusted machinery. All engulfed with vines and foliage threatening to hide the man made structure from the world.

It seemed like hours had gone by during his aggravating search. How many hours, or perhaps only minutes, that had actually gone by were unknown to the scythe. His focus was Jordon not the blasted time. Even if Asura found him by this point he wasn't going to stop searching. Until there was no longer a living breath in his body he was going to fight with all he had to bring his family together once again. Only when he tripped, tumbling to the ground and rolling a few times until he came to a halt on his stomach, and did he actually stop to think.

'_You don't have time to think! KEEP MOVING!'_ He cried at himself mentally, however his body refused to budge. He laid their exhausted and tired, his body low on energy. It was almost as if he was tripped on purpose by some higher force telling him to slow down, think, and don't kill yourself before the real 'fun' began.

Laying there under the covered outdoor walkway Spirit gulped down large amounts of oxygen, catching his breath. His eyes stared absently mindedly at the waterfall of rain the plummeted from off the roof and into the mud and vegetation that was snaking up onto the concrete. His body trembled, from both over exertion and cold. He needed to stop and think. Where would Asura most likely to hide his son?

With a large exaltation the man raised a hand to his face, rubbing it before wiping the rain and sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. Spirit pushed himself up off the ground, his cut on the other hand smearing the ground with blood, and glancing down he would notice that the injury on his leg had left a red mark on the floor as well. He was surprised his tumble didn't do much to harm him, the knees of his slacks and been tore a bit and his hands further abused by being skinned but otherwise he remained unbeaten. Peering about Spirit then continued on, jogging now instead of running. Just in case he needed to conserve energy for a fight.

"PAPA!"

Spirit would've recognized that voice anywhere. It wasn't even ten minutes after his fall that he heard the cry. Running back toward the entrance he just past he stood in the doorway panting and trying to catch his breath after the hurried run back to where he had heard the call. "Jordon…" His voice sounded weak, distressed, and exhausted as murmured the child's name while exhaling.

There in the back of the abandoned room was is son. His tiny wrists bound in a rope that was attached to the wall and tied together in front of his lap. The man could see the irritated and rubbed raw skin underneath the course fibers of the restraint suggesting that the child had been trying to struggle out of the hold. Seeing his son bounded like such nearly tore him to pieces, his mind wandering on the possibilities of how Asura and Sou had been treating Jordon the entire time he was in the duo's possession. He could see the strain and terror in his son's eyes, only making him think more poorly on how he had been treated. All Albarn could think of was his child, a small boy of such a fragile age, being treated like a neglected dog. It sickened him to no end.

"Jordon!" He cried out again, this time with both relief and enthusiasm in his voice, he allowed tears to flow from his eyes. Quickly wiping then with his dirtied sleeve Spirit started forward with a happy smile on his face. He had beat Asura, he had won this game. Their life could go back to normal, or as normal as possible after the child lived through something as traumatic as this. Albarn knew very well that possible psychological effects could occur; though that wasn't something he was concerned about that moment. He was more concerned about getting out as soon as possible.

"Papa! PAPA!" The child cried happily, as he too had tears running from his red and puffy eyes before adding to the trails of moisture that had previously been created. However this round of tears was not thanks to fear, but joy and relief. His superman was here to save him. Jordon quickly stood, wanting to run out to his father and throw his arms around him. He wanted to be held by his parent, he wanted him to cradle him and tell him they could go home. He just wanted this nightmare to be over. The boy walked as close to Spirit as his restraints would allow, but that wasn't enough. He let out a small cry of disappointment, before looking up at Spirit with a more saddened and upset look upon his face.

"Papa!" He cried out again, calling him, wanting him to free him. It was almost as though he couldn't say anything other than what he referred to his red-haired father thanks to being so shaken. However as his papa walked closer to him, he could feel the sense of security and safety washing over him.

His next step Spirit suddenly found himself striking the cold concrete flooring as if something had pulled the foot he had intended to step on right out from underneath him. The man grunted as his body slammed into the ground, and Jordon shrieked out loudly, his high child voice shrill and horrified. A dreadful sensation rested down in Spirit's core as he began to come to realization what had happened. Still on the ground and lying on his stomach he spun his upper half around. He rested on one elbow and his finger tips of the other arm barely touched the ground of the opposite side he twisted his arm around from. Staring up in horror his nightmare was confirmed. There stood the Demon God looming over him, a silky smooth scarf gripping the weapon's ankle tightly.

Spirit tried his best to keep his breath even and his heart rate calm; however he could still feel the adrenaline beginning to pulse through his veins. He also wouldn't have been surprised if the God would see his pupils shrink from fear. "A-Asura…"

A wicked smirk pushed up on the God's lips as he looked from the continually crying child and down at Spirit. "Looks like you didn't quite make it Death Scythe… How unfortunate."

Trying to ignore the wailing and pleading cries from behind him, Spirit closed his eyes exhaling a long breath from pursed lips before once again opening them, a new fearless and determined façade taking place of his once fearful expression. "I found Jordon before you got a hold of me."

"But you didn't reach him."

Those words felt like a rusted knife to the gut. Was the god serious? That wasn't part of the game, then again the rules were rather ambiguous, and he should've known that Asura wouldn't play fair anyway.

"Who gets the privilege of dying first?"

Hearing that sent a wave of pain trough his upper body, it almost felt as though someone had reached into his chest and wrapped a hand around his heart resulting in the organ struggling to beat. The soft flesh squishing between the invisible forces spread fingers, denying it the freedom to function properly. Jordon was going to die, he was going to die, and if by some miracle Justin survived, who would he have left to live for?

Ever so slowly Spirit climbed to his feet, the Demon God willingly releasing his hold on his ankle. Spirit remained silent for the longest time, thinking, contemplating, searching; trying to discover any possible strategy to get out of this horrid situation.

"Death Scythe, I'm waiting."

Albarn inhaled slowly, before letting out a shaky breath and closed his eyes attempting to focus on his thoughts; however when Jordon cried out begging again for his and his papa's release he winced, his heart breaking from the pleading little voice. In all honestly Spirit was ready to give his life for his son. He already made up his mind on that. He made up his mind the moment he had seen Jordon in that soft tiny blue blanket at the hospital about five years prior to this unexpected kidnapping. What he was contemplating was how he could protect his child.

"I'll be the first," Spirit stated upon opening his eyes again. His voice sounded serious and while also a bit shaky he was ready for his brutal death he was sure to come. "Can I have a moment with Jordon?"

"No," Asura replied bluntly.

That made it was obvious that there was no sympathy or mercy here. Biting his lip he then nodded, his eyes moving down to look at the cracked concrete that his dirtied shoes rested upon. His left shoe lace was untied. Not that it really mattered. His foot shifted a little, impacted a small rock what didn't even move two inches in result to the nudge.

In a moment like this he would usually put up a fight. But what could he do? His son's life was at stake. If he could perhaps just get Asura away from his son, get him out of this room, then maybe he would feel better about putting up a fight. Sighing the weapon at last looked up at the God and again he nodded, as if to say that he was ready. "Jordon, buddy, close your eyes please."

"P-PAPA! PAPA NO! NO! ASUWA! D-DON'T PWEASE! P-PWEASE DON'T-!" Spirit couldn't see Jordon from where he stood but it was apparent that the tears were streaming down his face in rivers.

"Please Jordon. Calm down. Papa will be okay." Reaching up with his sleeve Spirit wiped the tears that were forming in his own eyes away. He then turned just enough to look over his shoulder at his son bound in rope. "I really missed you, buddy. Your daddy and I were worried sick about our baby boy."

Pausing a moment, Spirit's eyes narrowed in thought. Asura had told him he couldn't have a moment with Jordon, however what was the worst he could possibly do? He was already going to kill him anyway.

"If God takes me before you, I just want you to know that I love you, Jordon." Offering a weak smile Spirit then started for his son, barely shifting his foot enough to even consider it a step. Then the inevitable. The words had barely escaped his mouth when Spirit would find his arms pressed tightly to his sides; the linen kishin scarves had thrust forward and wrapped firmly around his torso with a _ZZzzzpp!_ sound.

The man grunted, struggling a bit against the hold but not to the point of thrashing about. "Go ahead, I'm not stopping you." Was all Spirit had to say to Asura before shouting back to Jordon demanding, "CLOSE YOUR EY—"

Spirit's command was cut short when he let out a yelp, his body jerked into the air and backwards, resulting in impacting the metal frame of the store room just above the exit. The low reverberation had only just begun when Spirit next found himself yanked downward, his helpless body slammed into the concrete floor only cracking it further. On his second collision there was a sickening smack, which he would soon find was his skull hitting the hard surface thanks to the pain.

Laying there Spirit squirmed trying to free himself of the hold as he winced. When his body relaxed so did his expression. His eyes fluttered open weakly, a dulled gaze staring off at nothing in particular as he panted through parted lips. His body was searing with pain, his head throbbing from the blow he had just received. Blood dribbled down from his lip where he had accidently bit himself on the first strike, blood coming from the gash on his head as well where he had been injured, the crimson blood deepening the color of his already red hair as well as matting it down.

Three strikes and you're out. Suddenly the familiar baseball call seemed to play a role in this fight, or lack of, rather. Only after two hits he was weak, would a third kill him? … It certainly didn't seem impossible. Although when he felt Asura's scarves slither away from him, and free him of their grip he felt a little more at ease.

"Asura you son of a bi—"

"Oh, now, now, let us not use fowl language. I get enough of that from Sou."

Spirit laid still, his torso raising and falling from the gulps of oxygen he inhaled and exhaled. His eyes eventually rolled toward Jordon. The boy's wide and horrified eyes on his papa, his mouth parted slightly as if wanting to scream out, but too terrified to be able to make himself do so. Spirit had even noticed how quiet Jordon was now, if he wasn't in so much pain, or in such a dire situation, he might actually find it funny and crack a joke. He didn't think Jordon had ever remained so quiet. "B-… Buddy… "

The child's expression scrunched up, suggesting he might begin to wail once again when he heard his father speak so weakly and with so much struggle. His bottom lip trembled, and a fresh new batch of tears brimmed his sky blue eyes. "P-Papa…"

He felt so pathetic laying on the floor like so, crumbled and broken, blood staining his clothing, and pooling on the ground around his head. One of the strongest Death Scythes in such a state was enough to shame the ones he was supposed to protect for eternity. Jordon always looked up to him, but now the boy was literally looking down at his father, as he laid there. He was right there to witness how weak his papa really was without a technitian. He was going to fail Jordon… He was going to fail Justin. He couldn't forgive himself.

"I figured someone so highly spoken of as you would put up a more of an entertaining fight." The Demon God taunted, his words burning away Spirit's determination and confidence. However, they also sparked anger within him, a need to prove Asura wrong flaring up inside Spirit's core, and causing him to forget why he hadn't began to fight back in the first place.

Albarn jumped to his feet and broke into a charge at the God, his arm curled back, and an ominously black blade manifested with a flash of light eager to swing forward through the sick God's flesh. Although, before he was even within range to strike, one of Asura's several scarves flew towards him with incredible speed wrapping tightly around his neck and tossing him at the wall that was behind the Demon God; his own velocity helping the scarf with the strength of his impact. A thud dully pulsated through the air as Spirit impacted the steel structure of the building before crashing down on the crates that contained only God knows what. Asura jumped back allowing room for the crates to tumble and fall. When the dust cleared Asura could see his challenger laying face down in the ruble; Jordon cowering across the room, small whimpers and cries occasionally emitting from him.

A flash of light lit the dark room as Spirit's blades swirled and danced into white radiance before disappearing into his body, the looming darkness regaining its spot. "PAPA!" Jordon cried struggling against the rope, his tiny wrists only becoming further irritated.

Asura's tentacle like scarf still wrapped securely around his throat, he lifted the limp man, his head lolling as he turned and him around and examined the seemingly dead scythe. "That was too easy…"

Spirit's bleeding mouth twitched and his eye lids slowly opened revealing pain filled eyes. "Jordon…" He smiled weakly as his eyes rolled down to where he son was. "Don't worry… Papa will be alright and he will get you out of there right away." His words were barely audible.

"Stop lying, you shouldn't promise things you are uncertain you can fulfill." Asura mused.

Spirit's smile faded and his eyebrows furrowed when his glance landed back on the Demon God that suspended him in the air allowing very little oxygen through his windpipes. In a quick motion Asura swung around his scarf and released him sending Spirit sailing toward the floor. When he collided cracks were heard thanks to bones breaking. As he tumbled and slid across the concrete floor, a trail of smeared crimson was left behind.

When his body at last came to a halt, he felt tiny hands grasping at the back of his shirt as Jordon tried to pick him up off the ground. "P-Papa… Papa get up, pwease… pwease get up…" He struggled to sit up but only crashed down to the ground coughing up blood and wincing from pain. Jordon whimpered, more tears streamed down his face, his papa was dying because of him.

"Jordon…" Spirit murmured.

The child kneeled down by his father, still whimpering, still crying. "Y-Yeah, P-Papa…?"

"Do.." He winced, "Do you remember Daddy and I trying to teach you how to turn yourself into your weapon form…?"

"Y-Yeah.. B-but Papa…" The boy whined, "I-… I cwan't! I… I cwan't… A-All I can do.. is change mwy hwands… a-and dat doesn't always work-"

"That's enough. That's all you have to do." Spirit interrupted, his voice still quiet. "If you can do that… cut the rope to get free, and go find your daddy. Go find your daddy, and don't let him come back to find me. I'll come get you two…okay?"

Jordon nodded and gulped before looking down at his palms, trying to focus on turning his hands into blades like he had done so few times before. "Papa.. I-I cwan't.."

"You can…" Spirit ensured before he struggled to his feet.

Finally once again back up right from his fallen position he stood with shaky knees, his body slouched, arms dangling at his sides like they were lead weights. Blood slithered down the corner of his mouth his eyes squinting through his beaten face glaring with determination at his opponent who stood facing the opposite direction. Spirit raised his hand, wiping the blood off his chin.

A chuckle came from Asura once he saw the weapon resume an upright stance. "So… You haven't had enough?" The demon god teased.

"I'm not leaving without my son…" His reply was cold and deadly, his body jolted as blades manifested from his arms and back temporarily lighting up the vast and mostly empty room once more. "I'm not giving up."

The next thing Spirit could recall was the rush of water as it impacted his body and he found himself consumed by the river. The fight had moved from the room to outside, and soon to the water's edge. It was practically pointless that Spirit fought against Asura. They both knew who would win, but while Spirit still held an ounce of hope and determination, he would not give in. By some miracle though, Spirit had managed to get a few slices across the God's arms and torso, causing him to slow down, if only momentarily.

If it wasn't for the very scarf wrapped tightly around his torso the man probably would've found himself inhaling a large amount of water as he was plunged into the river thanks to gasping from the shock of the freezing river. The water was cold, icy to the touch, and as his body was submerged all he could do was widen his eyes and cry out. Soon his cry too would be lost by the water reaching over his head. He was helpless to the god's hold. And if he didn't escape this grasp, he would die.

Death. The very being he worked for. The word could arouse an uneasy feeling in the majority of all human beings. There was so little known about the mystery, and even more unknown about what happened afterwards. The God itself could strike fear into the hearts of anyone... and yet hold so much care for the innocent. Spirit had always wondered what death would be like, caring and gentle like Shinigami-sama was toward the individual's he cared about or harsh and cruel like the God was toward his enemies. So far, since he had been submerged, Spirit found this all rather peaceful.

With his eyes open under the water Spirit couldn't too far into the river. It wasn't murky but it certainly wasn't the clearest it could be. The water was dark however thanks to the menacing clouds overhead that cast shadows over the world. Spirit could feel the flow of the river gently caressing his body, his hair drifting and floating in all directions but mostly in the way of the easy current. The blood was being washed from his hair and body, trails of crimson weaving through the current and downstream. Wincing, a few small bubbles escaped from his lips which he held tightly together. He could feel his lungs beginning to burn from the lack of oxygen; his head becoming light. He needed air. But the damn scarf kept him under.

As the sound of the water filled his ears he felt at peace. He couldn't breathe, and he could barely think. However being so helpless relieved a great deal of stress. When you couldn't do a thing you couldn't be responsible for failing at any task. This task was different though. This wasn't just another mission for Shinigami-Sama… no, this was a personal mission. One he had actually went _against_ his God to complete. This mission was to bring his family together again. If he failed this mission he'd be letting down himself, but more importantly his own family. What happened then? He didn't want to think about it.

Suddenly struggling in attempts to free himself, more bubbles escaped his lips, and an eruption of carbon dioxide raced toward the surface of the water. The appendage like scarf kept him down with no trouble though, and only resulted in tightening the more he squirmed and kicked. If he continued he might very well find himself crushed by the pressure at which he was being held by. So what was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to save Jordon? Save Justin! Would he die only to know that his family could very well die shortly after? And if they did survive would they be able to continue their life normally after the loss of the child's papa? He couldn't stand the thought of not being there for his son as he grew. He couldn't stand the thought of even leaving Maka behind… perhaps once he was dead and gone she'd realize how much she really did care for him.

Dead and gone. It still baffled him that this would be the way he would die. A Death Scythe stationed in Death City Nevada… A city in the middle of a god damned desert; a city that the Death god himself had demanded that Spirit did not leave if at all possible. Drowning was the last way Spirit had expected to go.

* * *

**Chapter by: Sporkie**


	19. False lies and weak promises

**Chapter 19: False lies and weak promises**

It was serenity. It was bliss. It was the pure, clarifying feeling of a nearly undisturbed peace. To simply float about in the absolute nothingness was like flying and falling at the same time. A type of feeling that knotted up in your nonexistent stomach that sent both butterflies to tumble about in your gut and spider-like jitters to race up your invisible spine. To be in that nothingness, one was there, and at the same time was not. It was a contradiction onto itself, but for one boy who had endured one of the most hellish feelings of pain he had ever come to bear witness to, he was quite relieved for this enigmatic discovery.

This was limbo. This was the place that he had been told of. This was the place before judgment, otherwise known as the holy rite that his savior and Lord would put against him. Limbo was, of course, the realm of waiting. The dead went here. But that was the question. Was he dead? Or, was he still alive? He could still think rationally, could he not? Surrounded by darkness, with nothing to feel or see, his mind was still churning. That meant he was alive, right? Perhaps he was half dead and slowly disappearing into that murky realm.

At that point, though, it almost didn't matter. He had failed anyway, right? Giriko had, most likely, struck the final blow before he, Justin Law, could ever see his son and lover again. Sure, the boy's spaced out mind kept relaying the moment over and over, like some bad movie reel, purely out of regret and depression. But if he was dead, that was that. It was the final outcome, right?

He was just floating there, in that nothingness, feeling the soft tickle of grass beneath his weary body.

Wait, grass? Justin felt a rush of feeling and jolt of shock as he obviously felt something against his body. Yes, he had a body now. It wasn't that void he had been floating in for God knows how long. No, he felt the soft brushing of wet grass. He felt the slick feeling of the muddied ground on him. He heard the torrential rain screaming down from the heavens, battering his already fragile body.

The rain, the grass and the ground. He was alive.

Trying to turn over, he felt himself at the mercy of someone who had a tight grasp on him. His face scrunching up in agony, he felt the hot flames of pain lick over his haggard body. Those cuts were probably now beginning to crust over and scab. Well, he _hoped_ they were. He didn't like the idea of him continually bleeding out until he finally _did_ die. He prayed to God that with every twig or that scraped up against him that any scabs did not get knocked off only to bleed anew.

Sucking in a pained, shaky breath, he felt some water go into his mouth. Cracking open an eye, his eyesight was still foggy. He slowly looked up through his dampened bangs.

Instantly he saw a broad back with binding muscles in his tough body. He had a messy tangle of brown hair, slicked down close to his scalp thanks to the rain. It was none other than Giriko Sou.

With all the memories flooding back to him like a waterfall engulfing him, Justin let out a cry. He tried weakly twisting out of Giriko's grasp as the man held a vice like hold on his ankle. It was no use. He may not have gotten free, but his yelp of terror attracted the man's attention.

That look—no that _glare _of his. It was of pure, seething hatred. Those hard brown eyes of that chainsaw switched to be those of a calculating assassin. That look made Justin's blood run icy cold. Like glaciers running through his body, he was freezing from the inside out.

There was a scuffling noise. A cry ripped through the forest, but the thunder and rain swallowed it up greedily. A wet slap and a dull thud were heard before a victorious cackle was heard.

Justin, with his now bloodied head impacted against a tree, let his body slump down again just as he felt his already throbbing head explode into an array of new pain. He grunted, weak, and he felt his stomach flop when Giriko grabbed him back up for a second time. He instantly flailed and thrashed, trying to grab the man's hands, arms—literally anything. The chainsaw grabbed him up by the back of his mantle, and was proceeding to drag him away from the tree. Justin knew he was going to die. At least he'd go kicking and screaming, letting the heretic wayward weapon know just how much he was willing to rebel against him.

"Come on, now, ya fucker. Yer causin' me a lot of _issues_."

Violently twisting this way and that, Justin finally got a good grip on the chainsaw's wrist. Digging in his nails, he ripped downwards, causing the man to swear profusely and momentarily let go. Law had raked his nails against the skin, causing small cuts to form that beaded up with a little blood.

Getting free, Justin scrambled up to his feet. Shaky on his legs, he almost felt himself tip over. He was far too hurt to fight, and he knew that. He needed to find shelter, or some sort of temporary safe haven, to tend to his wounds. He was about to flee, to dive deep within the surrounding trees to lose Giriko, but he felt a rough tug on the back of his mantle that made him reel backwards. Yelping, he stumbled. He felt rough arms wrap around his throat, squeezing his windpipe. Not only had that made him cease in his attempt to get at freedom, but the clinking of metal, and the pressure of the tiny blades against the boy's exposed neck, caused him to involuntarily shiver and his eyes to go fearfully wide.

Reaching up and placing his shaking hands on Giriko's arm, as it stayed around his neck, Justin felt all the courage drain out of him. He suddenly felt weak in the knees. Giriko had manifested a chain from his leg and, pulling it up, had wrapped it around the very arm restraining him. The blades were pricking uncomfortably close to his jugular, and in order to assure it wouldn't be sliced in half, Justin had to barely breathe, if at all.

Normally Justin could find a way out of a situation like this. However, at that moment, he couldn't even _move_. Giriko was pressing too close to his body, pinning his limbs in spot, preventing the priest from hardly moving much. No thrashing, no kicking or slapping. Justin, being so close to the heretic, could feel the man's chest rise and fall. He could hear his breath rattling around in his lungs, and he could hear the man's heartbeat. It was deep in timbre. It was thudding and powerful, much like the hooves of some wild steer, rebelling against nature.

Justin was very close to death. He had his executioner wrap his arms around him, ready to pull down on the taunt rope in order to release his own personal guillotine blade. His life was on a thin line.

"Ya know," Giriko practically purred in the boy's ears. He leaned down, and the boy could still smell the pungent odor of alcohol swimming in the man's system. Was he fighting drunk? Or was that merely now a sort of common scent, like a type of musk, emitting from the chainsaw? "I often thought, what with ya bein' an independent weapon like me _and_ a Deathscythe, that'd you be insanely strong and defeat me."

"N—Not when you u—use dirty tactics," the boy choked out. He felt the arm tightening, his oxygen slowly being cut off. He was being strangled now, as stinging tears formed in his eyes. The blades on his captor's chain were now beginning to slide, ever so gently, into his skin. Gasping, Justin spat out, "t-think I-I'll e—easily give in to t-this?"

Giriko was about to literally ground the boy's face back into a nearby tree when he stopped. He paused, hearing the rustling of the brambles, brush and other drenched foliage that littered the area. He silently looked all around him, from the corner of his eyes.

Red amongst the green leaves. Red? Giriko knew who had come. He groaned, his saw like teeth grinding against each other. Turning his head, he confirmed his fear. There, appearing like a red beacon in a sea of soggy green and brown, was Jordon Albarn.

"DADDY!" The boy's voice held an obvious sort of terror in it. Not only that, but the poor boy also sounded like he was out of breath. Struggling to push through the overhanging tree leaves, bushes and foliage, he was making his best attempt at trying to make his way to where Giriko and his dad stood.

"Great," Giriko drawled, partly to himself. He instantly put more pressure on Justin's neck, hoping that the Priest hadn't heard his own son's voice over the miniature squall that was pouring down from the heavens.

Justin noticed that Giriko had his attention drawn away by something, so he took his chance. Pushing back a little, he easily shrugged the chainsaw off of him. He didn't hear Jordon due to his strangled cry the moment he got free. He stumbled forward, every muscle in his body shaking. He had worked himself near to exhaustion from his fit of mentally trying to force his body to work. He had been trying free, and now he was. His chest heaving with each ragged pant, his mouth opened as if gasping in oxygen like a fish in water. He was suffering from a panic attack.

Giriko, feeling the forceful shove from the priest, found himself losing balance. He grunted, stumbling backwards when he was pushed. This little action of his previously captured prey only made him want to rip the priest apart, but much slower than originally intended. He wanted the boy to suffer. His anger was rising with each little thing that Justin did to resist.

Just as he was about to let a long line of swears and cuss words to spill from his mouth to further insult and degrade the priest, he heard another cry from the boy. He stopped, shifted his footing a little, and turned his body just enough so he could move his head and get a good look at Jordon.

Jordon had now fully emerged from the thickly knotted wad of bushes and wet, high grass. When Giriko had turned slighty to see him, Jordon squeaked and found himself stumbling forward a little, entering the clearing where they were. He regained his balance, and looked at the two men. He was drenched from head to toe, his body shivering violently from the cold. His eyes were wide and filled with terror. "G-Giwikwo! D-Dwaddy!"

"J—Jord-" Justin paused, his heart sinking down even further into the abyss that was once his soul. His voice died away in his chaffed throat. His tone was strangled, hoarse from screaming. He turned around to look at his son. A part of him longed to hold his boy close, but the other half of his brain was screaming for the boy to get to safety. He whimpered, and then took a timid and shaky step towards his little angel. "G-Get out of here!"

Jordon flinched a little upon sight of both men. Giriko and his daddy were riddled with gore and gunk. Mud had been spattered against both of the weapons, clinging to their clothes and marring their hair and faces a little. Not only was there mud, but there was blood. Copious amounts of blood, the most being on his daddy. Giriko had a few cuts on his hands and chest, but his dad was riddled with long gouges and savage, deep lacerations. His robes were in shambles, cuts all over the fabric, letting the boy get glimpses of his raw and bloodied flesh beneath. Both weapons looked like they had been to every layer of hell, and had come back.

Giriko briskly walked up behind Justin, reaching out and grabbing a fistful of the priest's mantle again. His hand gripped tightly at the fabric, giving him no slack to really thrash around all too much. He made sure the priest's body was positioned a certain way so that Jordon couldn't see how exactly he was holding Justin. He felt the blond haired Deathscythe shiver under his touch. "Hey there, twerp. Whatcha doin' here?"

Before Jordon could answer Giriko, Justin waved a hand. He gasped, fear lining his voice, as he felt his captor already begin to tighten his grip. "J-Jordon, j-just go. Go back to Papa… o-okay?" He winced, sucking in some breath. He was terrified, that was true. He was anxious and stressed beyond any doubt. What if Giriko was going to kill his son, too?

"Dwadda..." Jordon whimpered, before shaking violently. He inhaled a big, deep breath, like he was ready to start bawling. Beyond all odds he managed to keep his emotions in check, and he kept his bitter tears in. Well, on second thought, he failed on keeping himself from crying. He _was_ crying already. It was just no one could see the tears that were on his face thanks to the cold rain. "B-but... P-Papa..."

"Hey, kid," Giriko gruffly interrupted. A sickening grin, like a caterpillar, crept along his face. He reached over, slapping his rough hand on top of priest's cap. He felt the young man wince. "Yer dad and I are playin'. He doesn't wantcha 'round anymore, got it? He wanted ta get rid of ya back there. That's why he left yer pa, and ran away so you could stay wit' Asura."

There was an awful moment of heavy silence as those words weighed down and attempted to crush the poor boy's heart. A rush of sniffling was audible as the boy raised his balled fists to his eyes, trying to keep back the tears that were now gushing with a force. Giriko… he trusted this man. He said his daddy didn't want him anymore. Is that why…?

Face screwing up in rage, Justin sputtered out a florid swarm of words. Spit actually flew from his mouth as his voice was raised in a tone suggesting a tirade was soon approaching. "W-WHAT? W—What the bloody hell are you talking about, Sou?"

"I'm jus' tellin' this poor kid the damn truth, priest. Whatcha think? Think I'm that cold an' heartless I'd make a little boy cry from some lies?"

"Knowing you personally, I would say _YES_!" Trying to wrench free of Giriko, Justin tried to pull himself forward, his hand out in an attempt to grab at the boy who was still several feet away. Tears stung his eyes, a few escaping and tumbling down his still boyish cheek. "J—Jordon, d—don't listen to him! Those are lies, all lies! I—I never wanted to a—abandon you! I never _did_ abandon you! I love you! I l-love you and papa, so m—much!"

"D—Dwaddddy…"

Both Giriko and Justin heard that almost nasally whine. Both weapons watched as the boy lowered his fists. His tears were like miniature waterfalls streaming down his face, his eyes were bloodshot. Hiccupping, Jordon choked back a huge sigh as a little snot started to drip down his nose.

"D—Dwadddyyyy… I—Is dat true…?"

"JORDON!"

Bursting out in a bone shattering wail, Jordon stood there, the rain smacking him in his already wet face. His clothes sodden, and hanging loose and baggy on him, he looked like an absolute mess. His mind was in shambles on who to believe. He loved his daddy, this was true. But his daddy, even when they were back at the house, would often be gone for weeks—if not more—at a time. Papa had always said he was 'traveling' because of his 'job' that the mighty Shinigami would entrust him with. Jordon still wouldn't understand why he'd see his daddy for a month or so straight, then not see him until three or four full moons had passed. And whenever he did return, on the night that he would come back, his daddy would be distant. Silent, his eyes cold and emotionless, he'd shy away to his room for a personal prayer session for the first entire day back. Jordon would often stand outside his daddy's door, a toy or his blanket in hand, and hear his papa call for him to eat his yummy supper then to go to bed.

His daddy left a lot, and Jordon trusted Giriko. He trusted the grumpy, funny man more than his parents did. His parents said he was evil. So far, all he could see in Giriko was loneliness. He needed more friends. That's why he befriended him. People need friends in this hard time, and even a boy as young as Jordon knew this simple fact.

Hearing his son cry so harshly at the man's lie, Justin had fallen prey to his blinding rage. "Giriko! Y-You vile, sleazy, no good _heretic_-!" With a surge of energy he tried elbowing the man in the gut, hissing savagely. He was in his parental mode, and he saw his son hurt emotionally. He had to protect him by getting out of Giriko's grasp. He had to get free, and he had to do it fast.

"Come on, now, Law." The chainsaw smirked, roughly shoving and letting go of Justin. He watched as the boy stumbled over his own two feet. Stepping around the young priest, glaring him with a wicked, toothy grin, he elaborately took his time pretending to think to himself before turning his attention to Jordon once more. "Yer dad, he's in denial, kid. He wants'ya to live in his li'l lie fer a very long time. He cares shit 'bout'chya, kid."

"Jordon! I love you, w—with all my heart!" Justin clawed at his scalp, before howling in anguish. "PLEASE! D—Don't forget all the times I _spent_ with you! A—All the times I held you in my arms during a thunderstorm! Don't forget my _love_, Jordon! _Please_! I b—beg of you!"

Hearing his daddy's calls, Jordon bit his quivering lip until a bead of blood formed. "Ow," he softly murmured, tears still glimmering on his muddied and damp cheeks. He looked up at Justin now and, despite his dad's frightened eyes, love was seen just below the surface. Slowly he took a few steps, his small arms open wide. "I w—wanna stway wid dwaddy…"

"N—No, Jordon," Justin said, grieving, with a heavy heart. "Y-You… you can't be here to s—see what happens." He gulped. He loved his son, but he didn't want his boy to see his death, if Giriko was so inclined in killing him. He also didn't want Jordon to get hurt, or even die, because he was around. "Y-You have to go back to p-papa. Yo-… You have to go back, a—and stick with him. Okay, b—buddy? I'll c-catch up with you, I … I promise you." He knew what he had to do. He had to reaffirm his love, but he did have to drive his son away. Giriko was making it seem like he wanted Jordon away just because he hated him. That idiotic lie had planted itself in his young boy's head, and even though Justin _did_ want him gone it wasn't because he hated him. No, it was much more. He wanted to protect him.

Jordon nearly choked out his strangled tears at that. "No, no…" He whined, his hands balling into fists again. He shook his head, his wet hair slapping against his head. "B-B... BUT PAPA! PAPA! HE-…HE- …. DWADDY, HE-!"

Wheezing from panic, Justin had began to hyperventilate again. He was falling down into his previous state of traumatic shock. Why was he getting such a bad feeling from this? He fearfully clutched at his chest, his hands weakly grabbing at his robes and bunching them up in a fist. Shooting a quick dagger like glare at Giriko, just to make sure the man wasn't going to attempt to do a surprise attack once he had been released from his hold, he shivered. He turned towards Jordon, his eyes expressively, and honestly, concerned. "...J-Jordon...w...what's wrong?"

"Papa! Papa he-"

"KID," Giriko bellowed, his eyes blazing. "Yer dad wants ya to get the FUCK outta here. He doesn't wanna TALK to ya RIGHT NOW, ya GOT THAT? Yer dad and I are going to have some fucking PERSONAL TIME."

"JORDON, PLEASE!" Justin was breathless now, and even his shouts were weak. His mind was beginning to snap, and his wheezing had increased. "D-DON'T LISTEN TO GIRIKO! TELL ME, PLEASE!" He stumbled a few paces, and, before he knew what he was doing, his legs made the choice for him whilst his brain mentally started to shut down. He had started out in a weak, unsteady run towards his boy, tripping every few steps from sheer weakness in his body and the fatigue mounting up.

As Justin started forward, running despite the obvious pain it inflicted on his already wrecked body, Jordon started to inch backwards. He was afraid to tell his dad what had happened. He was afraid he would get in trouble if he didn't follow his papa's instructions. He would fail, and he didn't want that.

"F—Fuck! LAW!" Giriko instantly was jolted with a grabbing sense of dread. What if the priest actually got to the kid and ran off with him? Sure, despite the priest's condition, Giriko knew how great a parent's love would be for their child. Parents would gladly give up their lives for them.

Surging forward, the chainsaw attempted on grabbing the back of the man's robe. As soon as his snatching hand closed down, though, he didn't grab a fistful of material. Instead he grabbed air. The wet fabric slipped through his fingers, and the priest was able to stumble towards his son.

Justin had felt Giriko's fingers brush against him, and he had also felt his heart nearly stop at that moment. It had been close, but he was still free. He didn't care if he was to be caught after this. All he cared about was getting to his son. He needed his baby boy, as much as Jordon needed him.

As he got close enough to grab his son, Justin's knees finally got shaky. Losing balance, he felt his left leg completely give out. He instantly fell upon his knees before his son. Some rainwater from the miniature puddles littering the muddy grass around him splashed up on him. Reaching out with his trembling hands and shaking arms, he grabbed Jordon in a tight, scared hug. He buried his face in the red head's soaked, dirty hair, letting his tears disappear within that tangled mess.

Jordon was shaking terribly in his daddy's arms. He had snuggled down, burying himself in a attempt to rid himself of the ghastly images that flooded his memory. It was then, up close, which upon a closer examination Justin would begin to see the rubbed raw skin from the ropes that had once been binding to boy. There were also several small cuts seen all over his arms, and on even on his cheek, from where he had cut himself free managing to manifest his chainscythe blade. "I'm s—scwared…" He sobbed, his little voice doing its job to reinforce the way he was feeling. "I-I'm afrwaid to go bwack…"

"Shhh," Justin gently cooed to him as pulled the boy into his lap. He hunched over him, bringing him completely up into his arms. He was protecting the boy from Giriko, just in case the man came up behind them, intending on slaughtering them. He'd gladly be the shield between Jordon and the chainsaw. He'd spill his own blood if it meant his child lived. "It's okay... I'm here. I'm here, and I'm not leaving your side. Even if I die doing so, I'm not going to let go of you." He patted the boy's wet hair, as if trying to flatten the mussed up locks. The boy's hair reminded Justin of his own: always messy and slightly boyish. He took a finger and began gently nudging him in the cheek in a comforting way. He felt his own aura swell up with protective love. It was warming to Jordon's skin, causing the small boy to relax his muscles all the way. The boy knew his dad's soul wavelength anywhere. It gave off the same feeling as basking in the sun, running around in a blossoming meadow while the crisp, clear air riffled through your hair. The priest was creating a sort of imaginary cocoon, or a safety blanket, for the boy to relax within. "It's okay, Jordon. Can… you tell me w-what happened?"

Giriko found himself bristling with rage. No, it wasn't rage. What was this? ... Jealousy? Yes, it was jealousy, but of what kind _exactly_? Was it because Justin was ignoring him now? Was it, perhaps, because Jordon was running to his daddy for help instead of _him_ this time? Could it have been maybe both? Either way, it pissed him off royally.

With a growl Giriko stepped forward, grabbing Justin by the back of the neck and violently ripping him away from the boy. He grinned, satisfied in hearing Justin's desperate yelp and pleas for his son. _Begging_, the chainsaw thought. _How freaking pathetic it is to hear a priest beg and cry like some damn child_. He let Justin go, once he had him back enough, making the young man fall down on his back ungraciously. They were only a few feet away, but he knew it was just enough to dishearten both players in this game. "Jordon… come on, kid. Tell yer dad _later_ whatcha hafta say, alrigh'? He's been wantin' ya ta skedaddle for a reason, ya know. This is a grown-up only chat."

Jordon had let out a small yelp when Justin had been torn away from him. He quickly held up his hands, holding them by his face as he looked up at Giriko rather, frightened. Well, he was frightened before, but by now he was absolutely terrified. While Giriko seemed to have tried to behave by this point to regain Jordon's trust, the child didn't understand why he was throwing his daddy around as if he was a worthless piece of trash. He already missed his daddy's gentle, loving aura. He wanted it back, badly. Without it, all the present fears and recent memories were trying to drown him again.

"J-JORDON!" Justin, in response to being yanked back, got on his hands and knees, trying to crawl back to his son. He managed to get a few inches before he let out a hellish shriek of pain. Giriko had stomped down hard, with his boot, right down on that raw, almost tunneling gash he had received upon his back. A wave of nausea hit, and he felt his newly crusted over blood, once again, begin to flow.

Now here he was, pinned down to the soggy ground, like some cockroach.

"Going somewhere?" Giriko said, his upper lip curling back into a bestial leer. "We're not done talking, ya know."

Justin sputtered, trying to get the grass and dirt out of his mouth. "L-LET ME GO! LET GO. I

WANT MY SON!" More hot, feverish tears sprang to his eyes as he thrashed, trying to get out of his sticky situation. He bitterly tried to move his hand, to reach out and towards Jordon, but he couldn't even move. He bit his bottom lip, suppressing a scared sob. "JORDON! RUN!"

"D—Dwaddy-"

With a sharp click of the tongue, Giriko called the red headed boy to attention. Holding out his hand was enough to silence Jordon, making him instantly stop crying. Giriko looked at Law, before looking back at the kid. Upon seeing the boy, his eyes softened. "Earlier…yer dad said ya should get out of here. I don't think he wants'chya around. How 'bout I try ta talk some sense him, then come and find ya when he'd be ready to see ya again. 'Kay?"

Justin knew what was to come. He knew what was going to happen, and, yes, he didn't want the boy around to witness. He hadn't all that time. That's why he kept telling Jordon to get out of there. Lying there, under Giriko's boot, he knew he couldn't do much. His body was too torn up, anyway. He was so weak that even if he did throw the man off of him, he'd be far too drained to summon up his guillotine blades and properly fight. Crying, with a brave smile, he weakly murmured, "J-Jordon...I love you. P-Please, go back to Papa. I'll be fine. Y-You stay with him...o... okay...? I love... Love you...!"

Jordon looked up at Giriko, and nodded, but then looked toward his dad. His eyebrows pulled together as a confused look took over his face. "... B-but Papa said to fwind yew... a-and... not to go bwack to fwind him." He was starting to back up now to leave, but still faced the two weapons.

"W-Wha-" Law's eyes suddenly widened with a mixture of terror and realization. Spirit had said that? Justin's heart finally plummeted down into the Alaskan waters bathing his soul and he started screaming his words out with a new fervor. Not even the thunder rumbling directly overhead could drown out his screams. "JORDON! W-WHAT HAPPENED TO SPIRIT? W-WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM? W-WHAT IS GOING ON?"

"A-... Asuwa-"

"Go on Jordon," Giriko said, his voice sternly. "Come on. Just keep movin'. Yer dad wants'ya ta leave... so hurry up and go _now_, kid."

With that, Jordon turned on his heel and ran. His small legs pumping as fast as they could take him, he dove back into the tangled brush of that Godforsaken forest.

"N-NO! C-COME BACK, TELL ME WHAT ASURA DID!" Justin, once again, restarted an attempt to push up and lift himself up off the ground, but Giriko simply just shoved back down with his foot. With a weak, pathetic whine the young man let himself collapse back down. He started to dig his nails into the sopped, slippery grass. "JORDON! COME BACK! JORDON!"

That was the final straw. As Justin began taking up shrieking and yowling his boy's name, over and over, like he was in some strange trance, Giriko decided to make the young priest shut up forcefully. He lifted his foot up off of him for a moment as he walked over, picking up a medium sized rock from the ground. Flicking off some mud and water from it, he watched the droplets dance right off of the rough, but slick, surface.

By the time Giriko had turned around to face Justin again, the guillotine was slowly rising up off the ground. There wasn't a moment to lose. With a few strides he walked back up to the young independent weapon. As soon as the boy had gotten up on his knees, he unleashed a savage attack.

With a wet _wha-chhlackk _the rock connected with the back of the boy's head. Justin instantly flopped over, slowly rolling over on his back. He was losing eyesight again, and he felt the world being mentally sucked out from underneath him.

Justin tried to form words, but all that came out was a wavering whimper. As his vision began to fog over and darken once again, the only thing he saw before he blacked out was Giriko. He was bending over, his one hand open and heading straight for his face. The chainsaw was going to grab him by the head, and, for once, Justin didn't care.

A flash of lightening illuminated the place. Giriko became a stark contrast, nearly glowing from the light. The world seemed almost foreign to Justin as his synapses started to go haywire. For a second he couldn't tell if he was in limbo again, or still aware of his senses.

Giriko's hand was a centimeter or two from his face when he felt his body go numb. Sleep was coming. He welcomed it, heartily. Perhaps, if he dreamt this time, maybe he'd dream of Jordon in his arms again before he finally died. With a giant sigh, he felt himself slip down again. He began to black out for the second time. He was, once again, back in that foreboding nothingness.

* * *

**Chapter by: Wolf**


	20. Alive in the deluge

**Chapter 20: Alive in the deluge**

During his second time blacking out, he found himself waking up much faster. He vaguely was aware of what was happening, and what chosen events were taking place. His feeling was also numbed considerably, but at least he could feel a little. Perhaps it was good he was numbed. If he could feel every little stabbing pain that tormented his body, he'd be in a hysterical screaming fit.

The moment he fully snapped into an alertness that woke every fiber of his body up, he was met, literally head on, with pain. He saw a mesh of brown and soggy green as Giriko used his head as some sick battering ram. Justin could feel the chainsaw's hand around the back of his head as he was slammed into the tree repeatedly. He swore he was going to pass out again.

He had been drug the rest of the way until they had reached the river. Justin remembered being semi-aware, upon arrival at the river, to see its beauty. It was still churning, almost as if it was boiling to some extent. It was a little clouded over from the imagery of the swarming clouds ahead. It looked so beautiful, but so dangerous at the same time.

Pulled away from the tree, Justin felt a little mercy. Blood practically streaming down from his hairline now, he found it difficult to see as the red rivers dribbled down his face. Muttering a groaning comment, he felt himself being drug to the shoreline, just before reaching the water. He began to thrash a little, but that was when Giriko dangerously twisted his arm. The boy cried out, tears spilling forth once again. Did his arm break that time? Did it just pop out of its socket? He had instantly heard a sickening snap, and it made his stomach roll a bit. That arm was tingling now, hurting like needles had been shoved far into the bone, impaling right down until it got to his marrow.

As if he was pissed off and annoyed with the young priest's sobbing, the chainsaw viciously shoved the boy's head down, all the while grabbing the back of his head cruelly. His nails digging into the kid's scalp, he made sure to keep a tight hold on him.

Justin didn't have much time to voice a protest before his face being shoved under the water. He screamed, bubbles escaping his mouth, as the rest of him—still on shore—thrashed. Giriko was only submerging his head, taking in a sickening sense of pleasure by watching the boy squirm, trying his hardest to get free.

Just as Justin finally opened his mouth to suck in a great wad of silt infested water, he felt himself pulled up by his hair. Sputtering out painful hacks, the boy wheezed to get oxygen. All the water that he had imbibed gushed forth in a shower of watery vomit. He saw the mess he made on the shoreline, and saw that the digested food and bile that he puked up was already soaking into the sandy soil. He coughed harder than he had wanted to, and he felt that a few of his already scabbed over wounds opened up with that action.

Giriko was doing a sickening torture tactic on his body. He was doing a sort of impromptu Chinese water trap treatment on the boy, and it was breaking him down fast.

"Like that, fucker? Like suckin' down that water?"

Weakly glaring up at the man, Justin tried to say something. His words came out, but they were soon muffled by the rush of water as it poured back into his mouth. Clamping his mouth shut, he thrashed again. His head had been pushed back under the water, and this time his lungs felt as if they were shriveling up in a raging inferno.

Giriko drummed his fingers on the back of the boy's skull. He lifted his lip up a little in a disgusting sneer. Boy, did this feel good to him. He liked to see the boy squirming, trying desperately to save his life by breathing. "Heh hehhh… Ya, ya'know, I kinda like this advantage I have over ya."

Justin didn't hear those words. The only thing he heard was the rushing water all around his head. He heard the rain above, dropping down and smashing upon the river's surface. He especially heard his heartbeat beginning to slow. His eyes going wide, and dilating further, he realized that this was getting him nowhere. The more he struggled, the more he lost energy and oxygen.

Feeling his body loosen up, he relaxed his legs and arms. He ceased the thrashing whilst holding what little breath was lodged in his lungs. If he had to act like a possum and play dead to survive, then so be it. To fight against someone of Giriko's caliber, the priest knew that he had to do different tactics, even if it went so far as to feigning one's own demise or loss. After all, he knew the chainsaw well. Giriko only stopped attacking when he thought his captured prey had died.

Giriko saw the boy's body slowly go limp. It was almost lifeless and unresponsive. "Dammit fuck," he growled. Yanking the boy back out of the water, he saw how out of it he was. The boy was barely breathing, if at all, and his entire skin held a blue tint now due to lack of oxygen reaching the cells. He knelt down beside him and pulled the boy back a little, back on the shoreline, and propped him up. The boy's body nearly flopped over from the motion. The boy was heaving, his chest barely rising and falling. He was making tiny gasps in pain, as if he had suffered a stomach wound and was bleeding out slowly.

"Hey, ya fuckin' dog," Giriko growled. He roughly shoved his hand against the boy's head, moving it to the side. He saw that the priest didn't respond. The priest didn't even notice him, at all. All he continued to do was to suck in air, but not expel it. All Justin could do, at this point, was slowly suffocate from imaginary hands.

His enemy was limp, barely responsive and dying. Some great fun _this_ was.

For a while the chainsaw studied the boy's face. He looked a little scared thanks to all that had happened to him. He was pretty frail, based on all the wounds and horrifyingly deep gashes that wracked his body in waves of nauseating agony. He seemed so broken in his grasp.

Sighing, his tone was laden with a quickly growing sense of boredom. He felt his fun had come to an end, and he didn't like it. Standing up, he dragged the boy back over to the water. "Time to dispose of my dirty work," he lamented. He wanted to continue, that was for sure. But he knew the boy was on the verge of plunging into his own grave. He was far too injured to even fight back, let alone let out a whimper of pain.

Wading into the water, he drug Justin into it. The boy, in shock, nearly screamed when he felt the water lapping up against him again. This time, however, it was his entire body. He struggled for a few seconds, but quickly he gave up. He had been hyperventilating. His body had been shutting down on him. He thought he had been faking it, but honestly, it was.

The last thing he saw before he went under was the blackened clouds overhead. It was those foreboding masses of clouds that rumbled across the sky that blackened his vision. He was aware of was Giriko's growling laugh. Or was that thunder?

There was that void, and there was that distant, glowing memory in the back of his head.

Jordon.

It had come right about then, as Justin was losing himself more and more to his hopeful wishes of his boy. The young priest had heard Giriko's deathly cold voice as he disappeared under the water.

"Drown like the damn, useless pew rat you are. Give my regards to the damn reaper as he devours your soul."

A wry, weak smile crept along the boy's face. He was so much in pain that he couldn't think straight. Maybe death was good? It would take away his pain of both his injuries and his failure.

It was cold, _so_ cold. The icy feeling of water consuming his body like it was some great, starved beast. There was a disturbing rush of noise as it whistling past his ears as he fell down, farther into the abyss. His mind was still half asleep, and quite foggy with pain. He was just waking up, and already he didn't care to fight what was happening to him. That pain, right now, exploded in the back of his head as he made his descent. A foggy tendril of memory continued on relaying what had happened

As his body fell down, more and more, fully immersed in that glacial cold abyss, he didn't even struggle. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, he felt funny. Going limp, his body numb, he was blacking out again.

Perhaps this time he wouldn't wake up.

_All the while, during that brief time he had been tortured over and over by the chainsaw, Justin had merely refocused on his loving boy's image. However, these memories of the boy warped into a mix between a nightmare and a vision. He was seeing flashbacks of Jordon, crying before him, trying desperately to tell him what had happened to Spirit. Justin still didn't know, even know, what the scythe's fate was. Did he die? Was he dying? Was he hurt, suffering somewhere? Or, worse, could his mind have been finally stolen by that damnable Kishin?_

_He saw Jordon, in his mind, kneeling beside a broken form. He was crying and screaming as he grabbed at bloody, torn clothing. He was pleading for his daddy to wake up as he lay there, mangled, in the middle of some death trap battlefield. He saw the ocean of blood that he was lying in. He saw the dead bodies littered about. He saw his broken form twitch, and a lone hand reach out to touch his son's face._

_There was a flash, and everything changed. Justin felt his mind slammed back, settling upon another scene. _

_Beneath a sagging tree, heavy with rain, was Jordon. He was standing before a grave. The writing was worn, but the name of it was clear: Spirit Albarn._

_Justin had wanted to break free. He had wanted to run, all the way to. He wanted to just gather Jordon up in his arms. He wanted to rock him back and forth him, protecting him from all his fears. He wanted to have Spirit living, but by the ghastly sight of the grave, he was terrified of the future. He wanted them all to go home. _

_This was Spirit's grave. Pockmarked with raindrops and already crumbling, it looked as if it was a few years old and battered by the elements already. The scene got fuzzy for a moment, then cleared up. Jordon was still there, but the boy was no longer a boy. Jordon was an adult, visiting his only parent's grave. Where was Justin's? Where was he? All he could see was his boy, and that decaying tombstone. As his boy turned, he saw the hallowed look in his eyes. That ghastly, haunted look of a killer._

_He saw a familiar eye pendant hanging from his belt._

The cold rush of water woke the boy up instantly. Floundering a little, he tried to gasp and suck in air. A silent scream escaped Justin's lips as his eyes flew open. Out of sorts and reeling from his panic stricken heart, the boy groped about in the semi-darkness for something.

Everything was wet.

With his mouth open in his muffled scream, he instantly heard his words gurgling forth. He was tasting water as it was pouring into him. He was choking, and suffocating. Clamping his gaping maw shut, and even biting the tip of his tongue, Justin whimpered. He was in the river now. Far below the surface, he didn't know just how long he had been out. He was getting all feeling back, and his life was exploding in an array of discomfort and agony. He could see the thin rivers of blood snaking up from his many deep wounds.

The water all around him was murky as all get out, churning with debris and filtered mud from the water. The river had been disturbed by the rain, and it was mixing up this gunk with the other stuff, the naturally floating particles in the water. It was making visibility hard, and made for a very confusion filled time.

Justin was so tired. He lazily closed his eyes again, his body going limp. He _was_ tired for a reason. Giriko had unleashed all but hell on him during their clashes. Most of it seemed like a blur now. Perhaps traumatic shock was beginning to shut down his thinking process. Perhaps that was why he couldn't analyze and retained anything that had just happened? All Justin knew was that he had been subjected to horrendous amounts of pain and agony. The proof of his hell was apparent when one even looked at him. There were seemingly hundreds of shredding cuts all over his body. Those deep cuts, most of them caused by the rotating snagging jaws of that chainsaw weapon's wrath, were letting out small trails of blood, like tiny red rivers, to rise up into the water and drift towards the surface. His robes had torn in places, and the heaviness of his clothing was making him plummet down to the depths faster than he wanted. At a time like this, Justin hated the fact that he had to wear his nearly ritualistic clerical uniform.

Exhaustion ruling his mind, Justin would have been fine letting his body so he could die in the cold grasp of the water. However, it was then, when his mind had nearly given up on all hope, that he had noticed another soul's wavelength in a similar fate. Turning around a little, he opened his eyes once again.

Justin Law caught a glimpse of red in the not so far off distance.

Spirit had remained submerged under the water thanks to the linen appendages of the demon god. There was a scarf for each of his limbs, and his neck, holding him there in place while he was slowly deprived of any oxygen. His body would shut down if he did not inhale soon, if he inhaled, his lungs would be filled with water. He had long sense halted any actions in attempts to escape, for two reasons. One being that the god only seemed to tighten his hold and make him more uncomfortable. Also, the more he moved the greater the need for oxygen became.

His face was relaxed, his eyes closed, and his mouth parted. His visage was even rather pale. It almost appeared as he was already dead, as his heart slowly pumped in his chest, it's struggling _'th-thump'_ deafening to Spirit's ears. His hair floated freely in the water's current, strands of hair gently waving and ticking the man's face. Aside from that, his clothes rippling and swaying in the water, and an occasional bubble or two escaping his mouth, he remained motionless.

Despite being too tired to move or swim, and the fact his clothes were so heavy thanks to the water, Justin knew had to get towards Spirit. Seeing the man's grisly condition only terrified him. Crying out, without thinking, more water flooded into his mouth. He instantly choked, and began to drown. Shutting his eyes tight, he swam quickly to the surface. Breaking it, he instantly gagged, hacking out a spray of water. The rain, it pounded on his bare head. His hat, it was gone. He didn't care. Trying to ease his burning lungs, he treaded water for a moment, and looked across river towards where Asura was, far away on the bank. He couldn't see the demon well- just his glowing eyes.

That was it! Spirit was being held down!

Gulping one final intake of air, he let himself fall back down. Once underwater, he turned around slowly, feeling his fatigued and shaking muscles scream in pain, he felt woozy and weak. He couldn't do that now. He was going to fail anyway, and he sickeningly knew it. He had to do something before his body gave in. Slowly, he began swimming towards Spirit. He wasn't sure he could make it, but he had to try.

Gradually Albarn opened his eyes, his dulled iris' peering into the murky water. He looked broken, both physically and emotionally, but more of the later. His parted mouth slowly closed, and he gulped, trying to force down the saliva and river water past the scarf that was wrapped around his neck, a thread too tight, but not too tight where the blood couldn't get to his head. Not that it really matter considering, there was no fresh oxygen in his veins and arteries anyway. Spotting something in the water ahead he lifted his head from its limp, loop-sided position, his eyes narrowing just a tad as if it would make his vision clearer. There, weakly swimming toward him was his lover, Justin Law.

Spirit's mind became fully alert now, snapping out of his reserved and dormant state where he was attempting to focus on living on his limited supply of air. He thrashed a little, trying to swim toward the young priest, but regretted it once doing so. Yet again, the Kishin had tightened his hold on Spirit. He let out a gag as the scarf around his neck tightened, before he allowed his body to relax once again, like he didn't even want to bother to fight against the god's restraint. It was as if he were giving up. And, while that wasn't the case, it may have very well appeared like it too Justin. Spirit was simply trying to preserve what precious oxygen he had, and he knew that not fighting would be the way he would live the longest at this point in time. As Justin got closer, he let the corners of his mouth turn up into a small loving smile, but the look in his eyes was desperate, concerned, frightened even. He didn't want to die. But more than anything he didn't want Justin, and he especially didn't want Jordon, to die.

Swimming harder, he pushed himself. He had to get to Spirit, fast. His wavelength was dangerously dim, and he noticed that he was giving up. On life? Justin prayed this wasn't the case. Putting on the speed, he pushed his body beyond the limits. The moment he saw the smile, though, his eyes became depressive, and sad.

Finally reaching Spirit, he felt a wave of relief. He was still alive. Justin reached out and, for a brief, glorious second Justin's hand brushed over Spirit's. He grabbed onto it, interlacing his fingers with his lover. He squeezed his eyes tight, trying to hang on for dear life. He knew it was probably useless. If anything, they would either drown together, or only one of them would. Justin would give his life for Spirit any day, for any reason.

Spirit blinked back some tears that were forming. He didn't need to do that, thanks to the water all around them. As soon as his tears formed, they were washed away. He wished he could physically love Justin at that moment. He wanted to wrap his arms around him. He wanted to hug him so badly. He needed to embrace him, hold him protectively. He needed to feel him in his arms just to calm himself down.

Law grabbed onto the scythe's body, almost instantly letting go and falling a little. He was winded and exhausted already, and he looked like a gory, bloodied mess. His robes barely clinging to him in areas, he looked like he had fallen through the pits of Hell and barely survived. In fact, not only Justin was bleeding but Spirit as well. They were both heavily bleeding. They were both banged up, bashed about with gashes everywhere. If it hadn't been for clothing, hair, eye and height differences, they would have looked like twins with their matching mirrored injuries.

Taking Spirit by the shoulders, the boy priest hugged him tightly, terrified.

Justin's touch put some sort of ease, peace even, on Spirit's mind and body. Having his lover there nearly made all his fears wash away, like, for that moment he didn't have to care about anything. Just that they could be together one more time, just in case one of their demise would follow after shortly. He attempted to move his hand so he could wrap his arm around the frail and broken body of his lover's, but a pain of depravation and sorrow that he could not hold Justin back struck his heart when he felt the linen scarf around his wrist hold his arm in place.

He gulped again, Justin more than likely feeling it, and his smile disappeared, replaced from a grim frown. Gently he nuzzled the man's neck and cheek, seeing that, at the moment that was about all he could do.

Feeling Spirit nuzzle him, Justin began to cry. Where were the tears that instantly sprang to life? They were swept away with the gentle pull of the water. He was in a panic. Spirit was losing more and more hope, and all he could do was see his lover slowly die under the water. He had to get him free. He had to make him live!

Unwrapping his arms from around the man, he began sobbing harder. Now some tears could be seen floating from him. He moved down, leaving Spirit's side for a moment. He gently inspected the linen bindings, running his hands gently around them just enough so the God wouldn't find it suspicious and tighten. He had to get them off of him and get him freed from it. But was it possible? Even if he got one off, Asura would be notified. He would feel it. Then either Spirit would be strangled, or pulled out and killed.

Heaving, clinging to Spirit's left lower side, he just stayed there, and silently sobbed into the man's soaked clothing.

All Spirit could really do by this point was look down at Justin and watch as he sobbed. It hurt to see his lover like this, and his heart ached. He wished so desperately to be able to reach down and comfort Law, but that was impossible.

How long had he been down here anyway? How many minutes? Certainly his lungs wouldn't survive much longer, they were on fire as it was and his head was already becoming light. It felt like hours, but he knew that couldn't be so, he'd be dead if it had been. He winced, gritting his teeth together as he struggled not to inhale. He was trembling, his fists clenched as he shook. He pressed his lips in a tight straight line, as the need to inhale became overwhelming.

The priest, seeing this, began to lose his wits. He went over to a scarf, examining it again. Shaking his head pitifully, Spirit silently communicated with the boy. _Nothing_. They were too tight. The God was keeping a tight hold on him, and being submerged for so long was putting a strain on his lungs, causing them to erupt in a fiery pain. His face was draining of color, and small bubbles were escaping his mouth.

He was suffocating. He was drowning. He was dying...

Justin felt Spirit tremble. He looked up, and saw the man's clenched jaw. He was trying not to breathe. Eyes widening with a swift sense of horror, he moved up so he was face to face with Spirit. This man couldn't breathe without, obviously, oxygen. Justin knew he had more oxygen than his lover did, at this point. Placing his hands firmly on Spirit's shoulders, he gazed into the scared eyes of his lover. His scared, blue eyes were looking into the much dimmer emerald eyes of the scythe. He was frightened too, but they had to keep going until their bodies gave out. He touched his cheek, his hands soft and gentle. Comforting. Kind. Sad. He knew what he had to do. Looking up at the surface, then Spirit's eyes again, he gave a sad sort of grin.

He looked away from his lover, Law's eyes were depressive. They were filled with agony, with pain. Then, the unthinkable happened. Justin turned away from Spirit, completely. He was pulling away from him, leaving his side. Justin was breaking away, no longer even looking at him, let alone caressing him and easing him with his physical contact. No. He was refusing even noticing the scythe.

Backstroking a bit, he gazed up at the surface once again. Then, with a boost of speed, coupled with power, he made a break for it. He was swimming, away from Spirit, but towards the surface. His mind focused only on that, he tried to get there, as fast as he could.

Spirit's heart nearly ceased to beat as he watched Justin do this. A sense of realization hitting him like a metal bat to the stomach, he almost felt like he wanted to double over and hurl its contents into the water. Was Justin honestly giving up on him? He would've died to save the younger Deathscythe, but was what he seeing true? Was… Was Justin swimming back to the surface, and giving up on saving him?

He could feel his heart begin to ache as a feeling of betrayal settled in on him. He was upset that Justin would just turn away, swim and not even want to remain there to hold him in his final moments, leaving him to die on his own. At the same time he was happy. He desperately didn't want Justin to witness his death, and if returning to the surface meant the boy would live, then without a doubt he would forgive the boy in a heartbeat. He could feel more tears lining his emerald eyes, quickly being washed away, and he sadly smiled. Closing his eyes, he calmed himself, accepting that this would be his death.

It took him a few moments, but at last he overcame his fear of death, and gathering enough courage, he prepared himself to inhale the water. He would die, but that would be okay, because he at least got to see his lover one final time before his end. Just as he was about to suck in the remedy for his own demise, he felt something brush against his cheeks.

The priest had swum back down. Justin had reached over, gently taking his lover's head in his hands. He then began to press his lips to his Spirit's. He had even closed his eyes as he concentrated on his task.

Spirited opened his eyes at this touch. They widened, surprised Justin was with him once more, and especially taken aback to find Justin and himself locked together in a kiss. Making out? Underwater? Kinky.

His heart rate picked up, and his love for the boy was telling him to kiss back, slip his tongue into the others mouth, however just as he was about to do so, he realized, this wasn't a passionate kiss representing a farewell. No, this was a source of oxygen to keep them together.

Even with their lips pressed up to each other, he could feel that Justin wasn't kissing. He felt something go into his mouth, it wasn't the slick, strong and muscled form of the boy's tongue. It wasn't wet, like spittle was. It wasn't anything of that sort.

What Spirit felt were small bursts of breath coming into his mouth.

Justin was sharing just enough of his remaining breath for Spirit to partake of. The boy knew the older Deathscythe probably had been underwater the longest. Law had closed his eyes, and concentrated on the big effort of slowly blowing in good amounts of oxygen for the scythe to take in. He had more air than Spirit, so if he died doing this one act to save the man, then it was worth it all.

Spirit inhaled the breath that Justin exhaled. They breathed into each other, sharing what little oxygen there was compared to the amount of the carbon dioxide going into one another. Pulling away, Spirit looked at Justin desperate and thankfully. He didn't want to take a risk on either of them breathing any more of the poisonous gas their bodies produced. Nodding upwards, he signaled for Justin to get a breath from the surface again.

The priest shook his head, not wanting to. He didn't want to leave Spirit's side. But, at the same time, he knew that if he were to continue breathing into Spirit, then he had to get more air. Hesitantly, he nodded finally, giving in. He made a mad swimming dash towards the surface. As he was doing so, though, his vision got blurry, and he felt his fatigue beginning to crush his willpower.

Breaking surface, he wheezed and sucked in air. He was barely able to keep up at the surface, but he managed to. Flicking his gaze over towards Asura again, he saw that the God was still there. He had to get rid of that God.

Diving back down, he hurriedly started over towards Spirit again. He had a lung full of air, ready to give it to the scythe. He was going to give everything to the man, and only go up for oxygen. He would take in all the oxygen in the world, and give it only for him.

Spirit had just leaned forward, preparing to inhale a fresh batch of oxygen from Justin's lips, when he felt a tug. His eyes widened, and his heart skipped a beat, frightened by this sudden movement. A few bubbles even escaped his lips and he glanced around the water, trying to see what exactly had happened. No more movement continued. Everything seemed still and calm once more.

Smiling Spirit looked back at Justin, leaning forward once more, however this time he felt the pull once again, like a fish taking the bait on a line, the first was just a nibble, but the second tug sent him flying backwards. He was ripped through the water, as an eruption of bubbles escaped his mouth in a scream, he was being pulled away by the linen scarves that had once held him in place, and reaching his hand out he was barely even able to caress the tips of Justin's fingers before disappearing into the murky water.

It was fear. That pure, unrefined fear that came with what Justin had just witnessed. Lost in a mass of storming bubbles, he screamed out. Justin had opened his mouth, reflexively crying out Spirit's name. The second he screamed out, his voice box straining from the creation of his strained noise, nothing but bubbles escaped him. A rush of water flooded into his mouth, and he jerked backwards, clamping it shut. He thrashed about, doubling over a little, hands clapped over his mouth to prevent more water from getting in. His words, drowned out instantly, gurgling and muffling his cries, he had to shut his mouth before he drowned. He swallowed what he had, his lungs keeping a hold on what oxygen he had remaining.

He had forgotten so easily that he was underwater. His need for Spirit, and his lover's safety, was far too strong.

Spirit had been pulled away! Blindly swimming forward, Justin tried to speed through the murky water, trying desperately to catch up with him. However, it quickly became apparent that Spirit was gone. No idea where he had gone, and fresher wounds reopening, he felt his head spin.

Still swimming on, despite his body starting to go numb on him, he weakly plowed forward. After a while, left became right, and when he thought he had been going straight ahead now confused him. Was he going backwards? He couldn't tell. He just swam forward, until he couldn't breathe. Succumbing finally to the need to breathe, he swam to the surface. Breaking free, feeling the pelting rain on his face, he spat out the offending water before letting out a strangled howl. He was shrieking Spirit's name. He was hysterically sobbing his lover's name. He was begging for the scythe to appear magically. He had to see he was okay.

Looking about blindly, he kept shouting. His cries were swallowed up by the hard rain. He tried to peer through the droplets that splashed and rebounded off the surface of the river. He could barely make any familiar shapes out.

It was no use. Spirit was gone, and at that point in time Justin couldn't even see Asura. Tears cascading from his tightly shut eyes, he let out a ragged, pathetic wail as he continued to weakly tread the water. He had failed him. He had failed to save his lover. Now Spirit was more likely than ever to be killed.

Justin was woken up from his crying fest when he noticed he was going under again. Fixing the problem by putting more energy into treading, he then noticed that his vision was failing him, altogether. It wasn't just the water splashing in his face that restricted his eyesight. No. Yet again, annoyingly so, he was losing control over his body and mind once more. He was losing the battle with staying awake.

Knowing he couldn't pass out in the middle of the river, Justin began weakly making his way towards the closest slab of shoreline available. The closer he got, the more his fingers seemed to pass through air. He had lost all feeling, once again. He was being numbed by both the shock, and from the bone chilling cold of the water.

Spirit. That look in his eyes as he had been pulled away had burned itself within Justin's mind. Even as he closed his now visually shot eyes, he could still see Albarn as he screamed out, reaching towards him. Justin had failed him, and this stung the boy's heart so harshly that he was amazed that it didn't stop beating merely out of guilt.

Reaching out once more in the water, in order to perform another stroke, he felt the slick, disgusting shifting motion of sand as it was clenched within his fist. That was it. He had made it. He had gotten to the shoreline without passing out and drowning.

Pulling himself out of the water, he felt the tug on his body as the water let go of him. His body now felt weird, and out of place. It had momentarily been accustomed to the lower gravity tension of the river and, now, once more on land, he didn't know how to move without fear of collapsing.

It took him a while before he completely pulled his half dead body onto the shore, and safely away from the water. It was then, as the water beat down on his fragile form, he let his arms give way underneath him.

Lazily turning over, lying on his side, it was then that Justin sent up another desperate prayer. This prayer wasn't fully finished, unfortunately. Just as he was murmuring the final words, his dying grip on his vision completely blacked out.

He was dead to the world.

* * *

**Chapter By: Wolf  
With help from Sporkie**


	21. An Apology never meant to be heard

**Chapter 21: An Apology never meant to be heard**

The deafening hiss of millions of water droplets colliding with their larger pool of counterparts nearly drown out the groans and screams of forceful gales. However as the amount of water on the broken death scythe's clothing and body depleted, so did the volume and intensity of the drops plummeting to the river below. Spirit was completely still and limp in Asura's deadly scarves. His body showing no sign that there was an ounce of life left in the man.

His mouth was parted, eyes closed. And while his body was beaten and broken, clothing and flesh torn away in large amounts and exposing muscles, and in some places, broken bones; his face seemed at some sort of peace, like a sleeping child. It was strained, yes, like he had suffered tremendously in his last hour of living, but what was to be expected? That was exactly what had happened. His clothing was disheveled and his tie all but still hanging around his neck, but thanks to his dunk in the river, he had been mostly cleansed of the heavy layers of blood. Although, by now, mixed with the water, new trails of said diluted crimson liquid made their passage across his drenched body in thousands of little trails, before falling from their owner and down to the mud and concrete below him.

Surprisingly by this point Asura was being gentle. He made sure not to jerk the body too harshly or even make his limp arms, legs and head shift too much. Of course, being the sick God he was, he found this state that Albarn was in rather interesting, perhaps even amusing. Very carefully the Demon God lowered Spirit to the ground, setting his already dirtied body on the mud and grass that threatened to completely conceal the concrete that existed below them.

Spirit's limbs lay sprawled across the rain soaked ground, his face directed up towards the dark threatening clouds and harsh downpour that ripped violently through the air and bombarded whatever stood on the earth's surface. Asura, stepping closer, walked across the mud and toward the seemingly deceased male. He wasn't dead though, and Asura knew that. A soul had yet to rise from the motionless body. This was the cause for the God's cautious behavior. With a nudge to the shoulder with his toe Asura received no reaction from the Death Scythe. And while this had been his goal, to rid of Shinigami's weapon and leave him and Death City defenseless, it seemed like it had gone too quickly. Where was the fun in all of that? Like a cat killing his mouse, he no longer found entertainment in his prey now that it was motionless.

Asura knelt down beside the man; only inches away from the body now. He stared intently at the Death Scythe's face. His red hair was wet and sticking to his cheeks, as well as covering the majority of his expression up. Pine needles and dirt had also decided to adhere to his damp clothing and body by now. He looked so pathetic laying there, he looked so weak, and that made Asura feel even more in control.

Shifting his feet, the God made himself more comfortable, as he crouched there standing on the balls of his feet. With one hand resting on his knee he leaned a little more over Spirit, his curiosity getting the better of him. Extending a boney gangly arm, he reached out, and brushed a bit of Albarn's hair from his face, but he quickly jumped to his feet and back when the man's eyes suddenly flew open, and he began hacking up water as well as gasping in short shallow breaths.

It was almost as though he was hyperventilating. Spirit's eyes were wide and wild, as he flailed about, trying to get up, but found it too painful to even be moving at this rapid pace. He let out a loud cry, as all the pain from his previous motions hit him all at once like an eighteen wheeler head on. His teeth gritted together, and he quickly found himself on his side, face smashed down into the mud as he curled up into a ball and the pain ran like acid through his nerves. He still breathed quickly, barely inhaling before he exhaled in a hurry through his clenched teeth. "J-JUSTIN! JUSTIN!" He cried out terrified, as if a late reaction to being ripped away from him under the water. He had to get back to him! He had to help him. But was that the last time he would see his lover?

Alive?

"Justin…" He was sobbing now, trying to crawl through the mud, but having no success. His fingers clawed at the slippery ground in attempts to drag himself back to the water, to try and get to the priest. His fingers left long deep gouges in the soft earth, but as soon as they were engraved into the mud, they were quickly filled back up again. It was no use; his weak arms were taking him nowhere. "Jasu … Jordon!"

Asura, now standing a few feet away watched the man, studying his actions. Humans were so amusing when they were frightened. He observed the death scythe as he tried to crawl about, cried out his family members names. He studied him, as he slowly began to break. Slowly began to lose all hope. He was witnessing Spirit's time of need, his weakest of times. And soon, this would all be too easy for Asura, not that is wasn't to begin with. The demon god, a god of fear and chaos, would have his best effects on this man, right about… now.

Stepping closer, a twisted smile warped over Asura's face. He closed the gap he had put between himself and the weapon. Then, with a distorted cackle, Spirit would feel a sharp pain to his ribs as Asura's foot impacted his side, kicking him and making him tumble if only a couple feet. Albarn cried out in pain, clutching his torso as he now lay on his back once more. Rolling to his side again in pain Spirit curled tightly into a ball, holding his gut as he groaned to himself. His mind was swimming with thoughts, but they were anywhere but there at that point in time. The pain from Asura's kick wasn't the main cause of his agony, nor were the wounds that made his body frail, but the fact at how beaten and broken his lover had appeared when they had met in the water. He had been so terrified that he wouldn't survive to live another day with his family, that he failed to really think that perhaps they both might die and Jordon could very well end up an orphan, and that was what caused his pain.

Stifling a yawn with his gnarled, ivory hand, Asura narrowed his eyes down at the Deathscythe. His tentacle scarves shot up in the air, like screaming hawks. "Useless," Asura said, the word slipping from his tongue like a drop of venom. "Absolutely useless..."

With a flick of his wrist, he pointed down at the man and on cue the white blur of the scarves descended down at a hellishly fast pace toward the Death Scythe. They wrapped around both of the man's legs before he jerked at them a little.

The Scythe's eyes widened when he suddenly felt pressure against his numbing legs, it wasn't long before these new restraints became bound so tightly that it actually became painful, pinching his skin as the material denied blood flow through his lower limbs. Spirit moved his head enough so he could get a glimpse of what it was, and not to his surprise there he saw the linen scarves of the kishin Asura. When his legs were jerked he let out a small cry, he was still sore, and that jerk might have very well torn some tensed up muscles. Gritting his teeth he looked back up at the Demon God, but said not a word, he was in too much pain to try and speak.

"Weak," Asura snarled. "Simply weak. You want to protect your family? That way? By failing?" With a violent effort he yanked the man, upside down, far up into the air. He stared up at him, his eyes reflecting his amusement in the situation.

The red-head was overcome with vertigo when he found himself lifted up and the world seemed to spin, everything was disoriented and upside down, his arms dangling under him, the simple movement was enough for his suit jacket to fall to the ground. It had been torn and ripped already, the only thing it had really been useful by now was soaking up his blood and protecting him from the rain. However seeing as he had recently taken a dunk in the river, it wasn't like he was trying to stay dry. "I-I will protect my famil-" He didn't have enough time to respond before he felt himself rammed into the earth, twigs and mud colliding into his skin. He could feel mud oozing into his open wounds stinging his flesh while twigs embedded themselves into his body creating new openings for blood to escape from. He let out a cry of agony, but bit his lip. He knew that by screaming he'd only make the god want to continue further.

"Pathetic," Asura purred with a twisted grin. "You want to protect your family? You're doing a poor job with that."

Albarn could feel himself breaking. Emotionally, metally, even physically. With each collision he felt thanks to the God's brutality something within him snap, and when he felt something break completely a new burst of pain ignited like fire under his skin

Raising the man up again, Asura slung him into the side of a tree like a whip. As Spirit was slammed against it, shards of bark- like particles of glass- broke off and further chaffed his skin. Flesh was shredded against the tree, much like cheese in a grater. Flecks of the man's skin ripped off, blood pouring anew.

With his impact into the tree he felt a rib crack, the bone poking at his internals, the very organs that rib was supposed to protect. The bark running across his skin only made him scream out, he literally felt as though he having his skin torn away as slowly and painfully as possible. Like thousands of fingernails dragging across his flesh leaving behind rips and tears in his body. The bark had easily torn through his dress shirt and rubbed his skin raw, and in some places cleaved his skin completely off, only to add to the blood that already caked him.

"A disgrace," Asura cackled. He chafed Spirit's face and body against the bark, enjoying the trails of blood trickling down the tree. Chunks of flesh were ripped away from his forehead and cheek, as the rough protective shell of the tree tore away at his skin. Some sticky sap from the pine needles smeared on the bark, it was mixing with the water and blood in small, goopy blobs at the base of the trunk. "You're a Death Scythe to that detestable Shinigami. You're the protector of America. You're supposed to be the man behind saving the people of your _city_, of your _country_..." Spirit was gently pulled away from the tree. "Yet, honestly, I find it sad. You can't even protect your own _family_. How on earth did you ever receive the title of being the protector of America if you can't accomplish a task like this?" Asura smirked and whipping him once again around at the tree, he put more force in it. This time Spirit could feel his body almost crumple in half as he was shot right through the tree. Cleaving the tall beauty to nature in half, Spirit was shot out the other side. The scarves letting go of him, he flew, hitting the ground and rolling, head over heels, as the tree started to crack. The splitting sound Leaves and branches shuddering, it began lean to the left before finally letting gravity take over. It fell down to the ground, shaking the soppy earth, the nearest branch missing Spirit by a few feet.

Spirit lay still. He didn't budge. Hardly breathed. How could he? His body had been so spent, so wasted and broken, it failed to even work properly. His brain was so focused on trying to keep its self alive that it was failing Spirit in reminding him to simply inhale or even allowing his heart to skip a beat now and then as it struggled to stay pumping and active. He laid on his stomach, the side of his face in the mud and grass. He could feel the fires within his body, burning agonizingly thanks to broken bones, twigs that jabbing his skin that remained gouged into him, broken off inside of his flesh. As the tree fell beside him, he didn't even flinch. He had no reaction to the thunderous and earth shaking collapse. However moments after, leaves and pine falling all around him nearly as heavy as the amount of rain that fell, his eyes slowly opened. They didn't open more than half way, and with a dulled look about them he stared at nothing in particular. Thoughts and memories of this horrendous day played over like a skipping and grainy movie reel within his mind. His mouth parted just barely as he inhaled a sharp gasp almost like he had been holding it this entire time, or maybe just because he had forgotten to breathe. Doing this sent a new wave of pain striking him in the gut and chest, causing him to squeeze his eyes shut once more before relaxing again to stare at the fallen tree in front of him.

"A failure," Asura said with a sigh. He made his way slowly over to the man. "Seeing you writhing like this... reminds me that, yes, you _are_ a failure." Reaching the man, he took a scarf, slamming down on the scythe's already hallow feeling chest. He started pressing down, as if to either suffocate the man, or the cave his chest in, which ever came first. His lip curled back in a taunting sneer. "What do you have to say to your little squeeze, Justin? Or your son, Jordon? Could you honestly say you did your best today?"

The man winced when that scarf slammed down on his body. He let out a weak cry that sounded barely more than even a squeak. His voice barely could escape him, and what sounds did escape were hoarse. Taking in a couple shaky and painful breaths he gritted his teeth before looking at Asura through one eye, the other squeezed shut. "I... I'd have to say... t-that I love them... I love them and I cannot apologize enough for letting them down like I have... But I did try my hardest... My family deserves no less than that... So I would give them no less. I- ... it... it looks like my best isn't enough though..." by the time he attempted to say his last sentence his voice cracked from the lump that had formed in his throat and the tears that had welled in his eyes.

Seeing the tears, Asura let his grin get slimier as well as wider. "Such whimsical words. Very human like. However, you admitted your fault. That I am surprised at." He put even more pressure down on the man's chest. With each passing second, he applied more, and more. He wanted to cave Spirit's ribs in, his scarf slamming downright upon the gush, throbbing heart. He wanted it to squelch underneath the fabric, gushing out like a meat-and-muscle strung waterfall. He licked his lips. "You admitted you're a failure. That's all you have been, Spirit..."

He attempted to clench his fists to counter act the pain that engulfed his body, but it was no use, he just wasn't strong enough to even simply tighten the muscles in his hands. The pressure Asura applied denied his heart the freedom to beat properly, not that it had been in the first place, but now, it failed to beat fully, if at all at times. He felt like he was suffocating, his heart becoming restricted to its constant flow of plasma. He could feel his head becoming light, and his vision going dark. Squeezing his eyes shut, hot tears ran down his cheeks, mixing with the cold rain water on his face. "I'm sorry..." he murmured, though it wasn't directed toward Asura, no, it was directed toward his family.

Asura slowly let go of the man, seeing him black out. Death. It was coming soon. Smirking, he flitted his gaze all over the man, studying his bloodied and torn form. His body was laying in a puddle of bloody, mud, and grass. The man's form, had been broken and twisted, with his flesh seemingly hanging on only by a thread. Oozing wounds, deep tunneling gouges, and holes into the man's wracked shell were all clearly visible. Slowly he bent down, and, sliding his hands under man's head, cupped it.

"A failure. A pathetic, weak worm of the human race. Too overcome by prideful emotions..." He almost sounded kind, his eyes like lambent lights, glowing softly in the down pouring rain. He took his hands away, letting the man's head slap back against the ground. He looked down, and saw a bone sticking out of the man's side. The flesh, raw and chaffed, had been broken through like cellophane. He placed his hand against the small, white bone. It reminded him of an arrowhead. With a sickening intention he pushed the pad of his thumb against it, easing it in ever so slowly. If the man was alive, he'd feel it. "A failure, and that is all you'll ever be, Deathscythe..."

No doubt Spirit felt that pain, but while Asura looked down at him, the god would receive now reaction. Not even a flinch, he was unconscious, unable to react, or fight back. He was even more helpless now than before. The rain came down as sheets on the two figures the icy cold drops impacting their bodies. While the water slithered down the Demon God's body, on Spirit it filled it wounds mixing with the crimson red blood that overflowed from his wounds. His face was turned up toward the heavens as it seemed as though the angels themselves cried, their tears staining the lush green forest. A forest that was usually peaceful now filled with nightmares difficult for some to even comprehend.

Snapping his head up from examining the scythe's face, Asura's bizarre eyes scanned the surrounding foliage. There were a large amount of pure soul approaching. Strong soul's. His black heart quickened in pace as fear and paranoia settled in on the cowardly god. Then after giving one final survey around his surroundings he sprinted deep into the forest, not wanting to take the risk of waiting for Spirit's soul to emerge so he could devour it.

_There was an intense white light. It illuminated brightly against the darkness that engulfed Spirit. It glowed against his shimmering sweat and blood drenched skin, making his flesh look paler than normal. There was no sense of direction where he was, no North East South or West. Where he sat, crumbled and broken, there was a floor, but you could not see it. Everything was simply black aside from himself, and the light that smolder across from him and high above._

_Slowly, weakly, and with great struggle he stood up, pushing himself to his feet where she hesitated a moment. He wobbled, his body off balance and swaying to regain it's bearings. One shaky step after another Spirit slowly made his way closer to the light. He held his side as he walked, his feet shuffling across the seemingly non-existent floor. He kept his head up though, eyes focused on the white radiance of an orb. He was drawn to it for some reason, as far as he knew it would be dangerous but the longer he stared at it and the closer he got the more it felt as if it was beckoning to him. Like it was the very hand of God outstretched and offering him a final helping boost._

_Spirit would find himself reaching out for the light, it was much too high for him to reach however, his finger tips unable to caress the radiance. He stood up on to his tip toes his body trying to stretch out to grasp the light, but even with this attempt he had no success. The orb was just too high. Feeling fatigue overcome his body as well as physical pain spirit crumbled to the ground, sitting on his legs as he sat up hunched over. He breathing was raspy and uneven; his eyes were half lidded and dull. He felt like he was suffocating, and like that light was his escape. He just couldn't reach it._

_Spirit closed his eyes, coughing a moment before hunching over even more. He could feel his heart beat slowly down, death slowly coming over him._

_Although, when he somehow managed to crack open his eyes once again, he noticed the illumination above had intensified, and even lowered. Now it sat in front of him in this pitch black space they both resided within. Albarn's eyes widened, sparkled a little upon seeing how close he sat to the orb. Then with hesitation and shaking palms he extended his hands outward. He hovered them over the small ball of concentrated light that lit up his entire body as was as casted all kinds of bizarre shadows over him. It was warm. Not hot, but a relaxing temperature. He went to close his hands around it, yet when his fingers had just barely touched the surface the light imploded, engulfing into itself before bursting outward._

_Spirit flinched, instinctively rising up his arm to protect himself. He even fell back a little. Though, laying there on the ground, with his eyes closed he realized something, he could see the back of his veiny eyelids, which meant something bright was just behind them. As he slowly opened his eyes he had to squint and blink to adjust to this new atmosphere. Where once there was endless black, was now endless white. Just like the darkness, there was no flooring, or so it appeared, but he was resting on something nor did there appear to be any walls or ceiling. It was simply white._

_Astonished by the sudden change Spirit glanced around the area, when he tried to stand up that was when then he discovered that there was no longer pain that wracked his body. Blinking in surprise his eyes wandered down to his torso and limbs. No cuts, no deep lacerations or bruises. His skin was completely smooth without even the smallest of scratches._  
_"Spirit~," A voice called. It echoed through the vast space, or at least Albarn assumed it was endless. The voice sounded doubled, perhaps even tripled, whatever it was it didn't sound natural. Along with that voice he could hear small giggles, that of a child. The laughter as well sounded warped. "Oh Spirit~!"_

_Turning around he then saw the owner of the voice. He thought he had recognized it. It was Justin. At his side was Jordon. They were both glowing, as if they were standing under intense lights of a theater stage. They were colorless for the most part thanks to their brightness, one color that stood out was Jordon's distinct red hair but even that was still softened exceptionally. In some places it was completely white from the intense emission dancing in his hair. He couldn't tell exactly where the illumination was coming from, whether it be radiating from them, or shining down on them, he couldn't tell. They were just bright, almost blinding. Both of them wore happy smiles as they came closer to Spirit, who was in fact not glowing like his lover and child._

_"Jordon….. Jasu…"_

_As if it were all planned, Jordon suddenly burst into a sprint to close the final gap that separated him from his father. He leapt out to him, throwing himself at Spirit's leg where he clung tightly and hugged him. His laughter continued, even happier and excited. "Pwapa!"_

_Kneeling down Spirit wrapped his arms around his child as Justin walked up at a slower pace. Once the other death scythe was by his side he felt finger tips gently trace small lines on his back which again had somehow regained its black suit jacket, complete without any marks or tears, before a whole palm was tenderly placed on his shoulder._

_It was all so real and so incredibly peaceful. He had nearly forgotten what had happened previously. Here in his arms was his baby boy, snuggling up to him as his laughter filled the silence. It was never ending, just like the joy within Spirit felt. Justin was at his side, his gently touch warming his body, letting him know by that simple caress how much and deeply he loved him. He was overwhelmed by the intensity of the loved that seemed to discharge for the two beings that sat around him that it even brought tears to his eyes._

_"Pwapa… Pwapa you're crying." Jordon's small yet concerned voice mention. With a tiny hand he reached up, wiping away a stray tear with his plump little fingers._

_"I'm happy Jordon…. I'm.. I'm so happy." Spirit murmured before kissing the child on the forehead._

_The boy resumed his laughing, his smile bright and cheerful, and once again he snuggled up to his papa._

_"Spirit," This time it was Justin's voice that Albarn heard._

_Gradually he turned his head to look at the guillotine weapon, his eyes looking back into those sky blue iris' that were Justin's. He literally felt as if he could melt as he stared back into his lover's eyes. People had always correlated love with the colors red and pink, but for Spirit since the day he had fell in love with Justin, that had changed. The color of love was the color that he saw in Justin's eyes. "Jasu…"_

_"Spirit you can't stay here…" Justin's words struck the man like a hammer to the heart._

_"W-What…? What do you mean? W-Why!" Spirit's once happy smile disappeared entirely now replaced with an upset look about him. "Why can't I stay here with you and Jordon!"_

_"We're not real Spirit… We're simply a hallucination."_

_Tears began to well in the red-head's eyes again at the reality of what his supposed lover was telling him. However when once Jordon had been concerned now he simply watched, not trying to comfort Spirit in any sort of way._

_"We're not real," Justin repeated, "None of this is." The young man allowed his words to sink in, though it was obvious that they were, Spirit face once so happy had seemed to take on a complete 180. Reaching out carefully Justin held Spirit's cheek in his hand, rubbing his face softly with the pad of his thumb. "We still need you back in reality, Spirit. You need to wake up…"_

_"…S-So… this is all just a dream?"_

_"N-no… Not Exactly…" Removing his hand from the scythe's face Justin pulled Jordon from Spirit's lap and cradled him in his own, hugging him tightly. He looked down at his boy tapping the child's nose and pushing hair out of his face as he continued to speak. And even though he stayed focused on Jordon his words were being directed to Spirit, "You're not dead Spirit, not yet. Your heart has given out, and right now your brain is practically all that remains. You're getting a taste of your heaven Spirit. When you're time is up, you can join Jordon and I here, though, when at last they join you, they will be the real thing, and not hallucinations like us."_

_Jordon let out a small giggle and reached up grabbing Justin's hand, distracting him for a moment. Spirit took this chance to speak up, "B-But Justin… I-I don't want to go back. I have you here, you and Jordon I don't need to go back-"_

_"If you don't," Justin interrupted, his now cold eyes darting up to look into Spirit's, "You're heaven won't look like this at all…. And you can remain in the dark, while you're real family dies painfully at the hand of your enemies." He paused, "I know you Spirit…. And I know that is not something you would want."_

_"But-"_

_"Please, Spirit… Wake up. Save Jordon and I…. Please…" Justin's eyes fell from Spirit's tear stained face and back to their son. "We need you…"_

_Suddenly the two of them began to fade, their bodies becoming see through and disappearing, and when at last they had vanished completely, the white around Spirit began to gray, before inevitably he was once again surrounded by darkness, however this time around, there was no tiny orb of light to illuminate the black._

_As he sat there, the darkness once again reforming, he heard a small faded voice echo, before disappearing as well. "Bye Papa…."_

_Tears, uncontrollable tears, spilled from Spirit's face. Wounds had once again returned to his body as well as the searing pain that burned within him. He wanted so desperately to just give up, his agony was far to great to even _want_ to continue to save his family. Yet, thinking of his family suffering and dying, seemed to only make his pain intensify. "W-Wake u-up…" He sobbed to himself, his body shaking violently, "WAKE UP!"_

Spirit shot up right waking with a start, his heart beat thudded loudly in his ears and a strange sensation pumped through his chest. He was gasping for breath, his eyes scared and wide. As the adrenaline slowly came to its demise Spirit laid back down, staring at the sky, which was gray... just like it had been when he had blacked out in the first place. He was back in reality. Cruel, merciless, unforgiving, reality. Ominous dark clouds concealed any blue that was the sky as fat rain drops bombarded the earth and wind tore at the trees. Unfortunately Spirit was not greeted by that same blue that was the color of love to spirit, that was the color of the sky and his lover's eyes.

He breathed in and out heavily, trying to regain the breaths he had lost. And now that his rush of adrenaline was over, he simply wanted to sleep again. He couldn't though. The Justin in his hallucination had told him to wake up, and he had, he couldn't slip under again. He could very well die if he did, and just as his eyes were about to flutter shut, a shrieking rev of a chainsaw was heard in the distance, the sound splitting through both the air and Spirit's ears.

The reverberation was enough to make Spirit sit upright once more, this time he was much slower at sitting up, but he managed. He looked off into the trees where he had heard the roar of the chainsaw and it's blades that ripped around at high speeds. He had propped himself up with one arm, one arm that hand managed to be in somewhat good shape. The hiss of the rain was nearly deafening, the wind screamed, but what he had heard was surely not either of those. That sound could've only belonged to a certain chainsaw heretic that was lashing out on his lover. Eyes narrowing Spirit forced himself to stand up, he took a couple of tumbling steps before at last he was able to get into the rhythm of a sprint.

Each collision of his foot onto the soggy earth sent a wave of pain spiking through his aching legs and body, but he pushed on. Justin was somewhere in this mess of vines, leaves, and trunks, as was the boys attacker.

As the scythe ran through the trees dodging branches and roots, his kept his head up, eyes narrowed as unsympathetic emerald eyes peered through his eye lids. They were burning with anger and revenge, whatever pain Giriko had caused Justin _and _Jordon, he would soon suffer as well. Albarn would make sure of that.

Despite his body being so weak, soaked to the bone and exhausted behind reason, the only thing Spirit could think of was one thing as he made a mad dash through the foliage…

He going to finish this nightmare once and for all.

* * *

**Chapter by: Sporkie**

**With help from Wolf**


	22. Blood stained Bible

**Chapter 22: Blood stained Bible**

Groaning, coughing, Justin Law instantly spat up a gushing wad of river water. He could feel his body aching all over, as if he had been run into by a speeding truck. His head hurt, his temples throbbing as the pressure of everything he'd endured settled in. His lungs felt as if they were on fire. They were still getting used to the fact that he could breathe once more.

His hair was plastered to his head from the watery bath he had to undergo. He could feel a trickle or two of bloody trails, once dribbling down from his scalp, was now somewhat drying on his face. His robes were torn in places, and in some areas his bloody and raw flesh could be easily seen by the naked eye. He looked rather pathetic, his form so fragile and weak looking that it seemed like a simple puff of wind could make his body break up like particles of ash.

The pitter-pattering of the steady falling rain still plummeted to the ground. It smashed against the ground, trees and leaves in what sounded like, in the Priest's imagination, a storm of bullet fire. Each raindrop that slapped against his drained, injured and half dead form felt like a punch or kick, and each elemental attack on him brought on a tremendous wave of nausea and agony.

The rain... it was so _loud_. How could he hear it so clearly and so crisply? Then it hit him. He hadn't had his headphones in. He forgot he stopped wearing them a long time ago. He had draped them around his neck. He weakly reached up, patting the front of his sopped mantle, hoping his fingers would brush over them. Nothing. Did they drift away in some current back in that hellish river? More than likely. In any case, Justin didn't mind. If he still had his headphones, they probably wouldn't work later and, even if they did, they might just short circuit thanks to the water inside of the speakers and electrocute him. The same fate possibly befell his necklace, now that he thought about it.

Feeling nothing but the wet, slimy ground and debris all around him, he slowly opened his pain filled eyes. Everything around him was soggy and depressive looking. The trees, with their heavy rain splattered leaves, had their limbs weighed down.

There he was, lying on the soil of that muddy shore. He had remained in the exact position from when he had dragged himself out of the water, his energy finally spent. He had passed out, he vaguely remembered. He wasn't sure how long he had been out but, surely, it had to be a short while ago. Nothing had changed much from the time he had first crawled up out of the pull of the water. The frothing, stormy sky was still the same color, at least.

Attempting to move, he happily found that none of his limbs were broken. Expelling breath through his nostrils, he curled up more in the mud. Reaching up towards his neck, he was happy that at least his necklace was still hanging around his neck. Weakly clasping his hand around the steadfast cross, he winced. He clearly felt that a chunk of it had been broken off.

Lamenting his cross a tiny bit, he suddenly felt extremely languid. He wanted sleep. He wanted rest. He could feel his robes drenched not only from the water of the river or the rain falling, but from the alarming amount of blood he was losing. Lightheaded and drained, he knew it was because of his trauma and serious injuries.

No. He couldn't sleep. He knew that if he fell asleep, he'd die. If he let his body relax for one moment, his mind drift away into the utter nothingness of his conscious, then he had a terrible feeling that he'd lose the battle with his life and never wake up again. If he died, he'd be letting not only Spirit down, but Jordon.

He imagined Jordon's tears and shrill cries at the realization his daddy was out of his life, forever. Justin winced a little, forcing his eyes open, keeping his mind alive and awake. He couldn't live with himself in the afterlife if he knew that his son was suffering so. He knew his angel probably didn't understand the concept of "death", so he knew the boy would be confused, terrified and tormented not knowing what happened to his "daddy".

Grunting and groaning with pain, Justin slowly rolled over from his side. He felt the mud and grainy shore sand coat him liberally, and he tried not to get disgusted by the feeling of it. He slipped once or twice, but he managed to get up on all fours. He had to slowly get himself to stand. He had to get away from the river. He couldn't look back at it, or hear the water lapping gently against the rocks and shore, without being reminded of what had just happened. Besides, he had a better mission lying deep in his heart. He had to find Spirit and Jordon. He had to save them; even if that was the last thing he did before his lifeless, broken body fell to the ground.

A soft, squelching _thunk_ was heard, and Justin blinked. Afraid to move for a second, he thought someone was lurking about in the various scrubs or behind the ancient trees of the forest line. He quickly scanned them, paranoid, before another wave of hacking made him double over. Turning his head to the side, he coughed up a disgusting wad, a mixture of watery vomit. His stomach rolling like the disturbed waves of the river itself, he slowly looked down at the ground beneath him.

He paused. So that's what made the noise. Lying there, right on the muddy soil beneath him was his trusted white Bible. A bit waterlogged, it still seemed like it could be of some use if he dried it out.

Body trembling in disbelief, he tried to stop the tears from falling. Was this some sort of sign that, perhaps, his God _was_ right beside him? Was his divine Lord and Savior really near to him, right now, trying to comfort him? Looking down at his robe, he noticed that one of his pockets had a huge hole torn into it. The edges of the material must have frayed under the constant onslaught of the chainsaw's whirring gears and blades, and the stress must have made his clothing finally give way. Grimly sighing, he had to admit that he was surprised he was still wearing any clothes at all. The weapon had come after him with such fervor, he was amazed that his clothing was still holding strong. He had to thank God for the heavy robes he wore. They may have been a disadvantage whilst in the water, but they also acted as a durable sort of cloth armor.

Staring down at his blessed book, he felt the strong need to hold it close to him. Maneuvering so he didn't lose balance, he lifted his muddied, dirty hand and went to touch his fallen Bible. Before he did, however, he whimpered. A lump, or cluster, of bloody drops fell down on the once pristine book. The gold leaf lettering on its heavy leather bound cover was now partially obscured by his blood.

Overcome with his grief, he finally let loose his frightened tears. Falling to his knees, he cradled the book against his chest and stomach. The blood on his robes, with the coppery stench so strong that it nearly made Justin gagged, was now surely coating his book in a thin, watered down layered.

He was scared. He was terrified. Sure, he was a Priest, so, technically, he would have had to act like an adult in every situation. That didn't _matter_, though. At that moment in time he was just a seventeen year old boy too consumed in his terror to even think straight. He was hyperventilating, too numb, cold and scared to even move. All he wanted was someone to hug him close. All he needed was a sign that someone was coming for him. To his knowledge, he was going to die alone, right there on the river's godforsaken shoreline without his family around to know he was even gone.

"S-Spirit...! J-J-Jordon...!" Gulping down his thick lump of tears that had formed in his throat, he howled out his agony. "G—GOD… OH GOD! P—PLEASE, HELP ME!"

Gazing up at the sky, he let his tormented, agonized tears stream down his face. What was he to do? He didn't want to fail his family but failing was what he was doing. He could feel himself mentally falling back down into that watery abyss. He just couldn't seem to get a hold of himself.

His crying was cut short, however, when a hostile force of power slammed him square in the middle of his back. With a strangled cry of pure shock, he felt himself pushed over, his body slamming down face first into the muddy shoreline. He sputtered and coughed, his body pinned down with the Bible underneath him. That book jabbed into his side, causing him to feel a sharp jolt of pain.

A barking cackle was heard somewhere above him. It sounded so familiar. It cracked with rage and bestiality.

"So, this is where ya fuckin' washed up. Just like the filthy pew rat I said ya were!"

That voice. Justin knew it well. The oil stained _Lucifer_ had returned. Groaning, hacking up a wad of dirt and sand, he felt his body tense up. He now knew that that "someone" who had his foot slammed down on his back, keeping him pinned there helplessly, was his longtime enemy, Giriko Sou.

For a brief, glorious second, the pressure applied to the boy's back was released. The foot had been taken away. However, before Justin could find his strength and bolt upright, he felt a vicious jabbing kick aimed right at his side.

Taking the savage force in the ribs, he cried out, wheezing. Rolling back over on his side, his head flopped back as he gasped for breath. His eyes were still watery from his crying fit. He felt a new wave of tears spring to his eyes. He breathlessly whimpered, his hand instantly scrabbling against the soil before he found the Bible. He unconsciously dragged it to him, keeping it close against his ravaged body.

Snarling, the chainsaw loomed over the fallen Priest. His own usually spiky, haphazardly unkempt hair was flat against his head, and his eyes were burning with a fiery wrath. His clothes, besides waterlogged and hanging heavy on his bulky frame, were slightly frayed on the edges from Law's constant barrage of attacks.

The only comfort for Justin in seeing the chainsaw's appearance was that he could see that the man was injured himself. Sure, not as much as he was, but Law's few well aimed attacks with his blades had done some damage at least. He had gotten a hit, or two, in possibly before he died. At least he hadn't failed in that sense.

"Real nice fuckin' trick ya pulled back there, _Father_." Wiping his nose with his finger, he lifted his foot and placed it down on Justin's legs, preventing him from moving much. Crouching a little, he stared the boy right in the face. "Where did'ya learn how to fight dirty like that? I thought yer fuckin' kind had to be noble and self righteous, even on the goddamn battlefield."

Not helping a weak, by wry, smirk to dance on his lips. He knew he was probably in the least favored situation to mouth off to the person who could very well take his life as easily as ever before; he gave a weak, timid laugh. "Y—You were fighting dirty, and the only w-way to fight a rat is by acting like a c-cat."

Bristling with anger towards the snide comment, he put more weight down on the boy's legs, causing unnecessary pressure to be applied to the critical joints. As Giriko ground his boot down a bit, making sure the boy was tortured to the point where his bones almost broke, he sneered back down at the boy. "Like that? I bet ya do, ya fuckin'-"

He paused from his motion of torture, blinking. Something wasn't right. Where were the cries of pure agony? Where were the babbling tear filled pleas for him to stop? Come to think of it, Giriko wasn't hearing any sort of sign that Justin was giving in.

_Well, this isn't fun,_ Giriko thought. _Where the hell is the fight and struggle that the boy normally puts up? This is going to get boring, real fast, if he just dies here. Besides, that damnable demon wouldn't let me live it down if I disposed of him right here without him watching. He's a narcissistic bastard like that._

It was then, deep in his thought that his hard brown eyes had lazily scanned downwards from the boy's face to his chest. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as his blood began to boil upon what he had seen.

The boy held his sopped, bloody and mud marred Bible close to his chest. He was hugging it tightly with a reverent fervor. His other hand was clasped around his necklace. Broken though it may be, his hand was wrapped around the pendant lovingly. Eyes squeezed tightly, his face scrunched a little in pain; he murmured and whimpered out frantic prayers. Aside from the obvious pain in the boy's features and his shaky, cracking words, Justin would almost seem as if he was calmly meditating. He was attempting to ignore what was going on simply because of his love and trust for his God.

_Religion_. It was Giriko's _most_ hated thing in life. Anyone who worshiped it with a passion was on his most loathed list. Justin Law, by not giving him a scrap of attention but, instead, giving it towards his God, made one bad move. By doing that, Giriko's anger was unleashed. What he, Sou, was doing meant nothing compared to a simple book, or that blasted cross? Those small objects were more important than _him_? A tidal wave of pure hatred washed over the man, consuming his every thought. _Fuck this_, he snarled in his mind. _So some obviously fictional being is more important than me, or what I'm doing to him? _He ground his teeth together, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.

He may have always hated the boy, but he had always wanted to be noticed by the Priest. Perhaps there was a reason behind this. Perhaps there was some hidden emotion that fueled this desire. Maybe his mind was blocking the real reason behind it but, for just _one_ day, when they had to battle, he _wanted_ to be _recognized_ for the devious deeds he was doing. He was a _sinner_ and, by _damn_, he _wanted_ the Priest to know that. He wanted the Priest to know how _dangerous_ he was. He didn't want to be passed off as some loony, an easily beat villain that could be tossed aside so carelessly. He didn't want to be treated like some garden variety fly. He was a wasp, not a petty pest.

However, because Justin was still refusing to even look him in the eye to make them on equal levels (let alone even a submissive level for the boy) as he was being tortured, he made him appear that he was of a higher importance just because of his love and faith in his God. Giriko had a change of plans because of that. His previous orders were to drag the boy back to the Kishin so his soul could be consumed quickly, but why now? Now the only thing on Giriko's mind was to torture the boy.

Long, slow torture.

With a savage growl, he bent down and, tearing the book from the boy's grasp, he was happy enough to see the boy's eyes fly open in shock. In one fluid motion he swung, slamming the spine of the heavy bound tome into the side of the Priest's head.

There was a sickening groan as, for a moment; it appeared the boy had instantly passed out. His head rolling to the side, his eyes became heavily lidded. His breathing became audible now and it converted in a soft wheezing.

"Religion is a waste of time," Giriko chided mockingly. He waved the bloody Bible in the boy's face. "Yer just wastin' yer breath with all of those stupid prayers an' psalms. They mean nothin' to a bastard like you." Suddenly cackling, he tapped the book against the boy's seemingly hallow chest. "Besides, aren'tcha a sinner anyway?"

Squirming a bit, a strangled sob was heard from the boy. This, of course, made the saw only become fueled in his twisted thought process.

"You had _sex_, Father."

Misty blue eyes opening up, Justin bit his bottom lip, trying to keep himself from breaking down. He knew what had happened was a sin. Priests were supposed to remain sterile and pure in the eyes of God. But now... he was_ tainted_. In the end he hadn't minded the night he had lost his virginity. He had even forgiven Spirit, finding that he was beginning to love him. Everything was righted in Justin's mind, seeing as what came from it. However much he tried to convince himself it was okay, he knew that blossoming love was technically against his religion was well.

"Sex while yer a Priest... and it was a _forbidden_ romance, with a _guy. _Not only that, but with a weapon of yer one God, that _Shinigami_. To top it all off, yer a _man_ who had a _kid_. Yer nothin' but a freak and _no_ God would ever love someone like you."

Justin remained silent. Depression weighed down heavy on him. He reached back up and held on tightly to his cross. _A freak that no God would love...?_ He whimpered, wishing Spirit was nearby to hold him close. He was beginning to lose faith again, and it terrified him.

What Giriko had said struck a broken cord within the boy. Justin's mind began to wander. Was that why his God had let Jordon get kidnapped? Was this why his Lord was letting Spirit suffer at the hands of the Kishin? Was this why his Savior was letting him get tortured to the brink of death, over and over, only to get brought back at the last minute to endure it all over once again?

Raising the Bible, Giriko let out a deranged cackle. He sounded like a madman but, to Justin, that wasn't something new. What _was_ new was the torture that had suddenly been wrought against him. Giriko had begun to smash the Bible against his head, over and over, relentlessly accenting his words with his hits as he said them.

"Yer-" _whack! _"-just-" _whack!_ "-a-" _whack!_ "-fuckin'-" _whack!_ "-WASTE!" _ka-__**whack**__!_

Going limp, Justin let out a strangled, choking whimper. He swore he had heard his skull, or perhaps jaw, crack from that last assault. He tried mumbling out some words, but it sounded dazed, hoarse and slurred. It almost died away instantly in his throat. Rivers of blood now poured down from his hairline and temple. A few trickling veins of blood dripped over his left eye, and he had to close it instinctively.

Giggling with a childish sort of manic glee, he was watching the pain danced within seemingly vacant, visible eye of the boy. Relishing in his victory, Giriko smashed the book again, but this time he made sure it was the last time. He didn't want the boy to die just yet. He was a cat, playing with his dying mouse prey. He wanted to keep it going as long as he could.

As the Bible connected with Justin's head for the last time, he felt a wet slap of liquid smack against his cheek. He enjoyed the small spatter of blood that now liberally speckled his own face. It felt _so_ good. He loved the sight of blood. Seeing his enemy bleed meant that he was winning in superiority over them.

This time Justin was half out of it, looking back up at the chainsaw from the corner of his eye. He let out a weak groan as he felt more blood trickle down from his left temple. His headache that he had before was blossoming into a full blown migraine.

"Oh, _what_ was that? I thought ya liked your damn book." Giriko said in a scoffing, mocking tone. He put his finger to his own temple in much of the fashion of a gun being pointed there. "Does this mean you're undone by yer own religion?"

Turning, Giriko took a few steps and threw the book with a force. It whistled through the air, wetly slapping the ground as it hit. It had landed so far from Justin's reach that, from where the boy was, he couldn't even get to it even if he tried reach out for it.

"Yeah, thought so. Stay silent an'-"

Giriko had turned around. The priest? He was no longer in his spot. The scuffled, hurried footprints and the steady trail of dripping blood told the chainsaw that the guillotine had made a break for it. He sharply looked up, and saw the wounded younger man hobbling off of the shore and making a straight course for the wooded area.

"Dammit fuck!" Taking the moment to gather his stunned mind and put it back together, all the while forgetting his amazement when he found the boy actually up and walking, he made a movement to charge after the boy. Slipping on the slimy sand a little halted his action for a few seconds, giving precious moments to escape for the severely wounded prey of his. "GET BACK HERE, YA GOOD FOR NOTHIN' RAT!"

As the sound of a blades rotating into life once again, the trees seemingly swallowed the monochromatic priest up.

Panting, his sides heaving, Justin continued to push forward. He looked around frantically. He had to find a place to hide away. He had to find a secluded place, just so he could die without the chainsaw mutilating his corpse. He couldn't stand the mere idea of the man cutting him up so much that, if someone did find him, he wouldn't be able to be identified. A massacre he wanted to avoid, so Justin made sure to search every nook and cranny of the forest for the perfect hiding spot.

Glancing up at the canopy above him, he was grateful that the leaves were now blocking a few more raindrops. Sure, they came down, and still soaked the now swampy soil, but at least he wasn't feeling the constant drumming of the raindrops every five seconds.

_Jordon and Spirit_. Where were they right now? His mind was fuzzy, and he tried to bring an image of their faces to light. He was having trouble not only focusing on them, but remembering the fine details. How narrow was Spirit's face? Did Jordon have mussed up hair, or was it combed the last time he was spotted?

The revving of an engine behind him caused the priest to find his feet rooted in one spot. He was far too tired, and far too weak to run anymore. What with Giriko now catching up to him, he hadn't an idea where to run. As he began mumbling words passed his numbed lips, he wrapped his arms tightly around his shredded body.

There wasn't any denying that he was going to die.

"JUST _WAIT_, LAW!" Giriko screamed out in rage, advancing on the priest while he simply stood there like a deer staring into the headlights of an oncoming car. "I'll take a fuckin' shower in yer blood! I'LL RIP YA'PART!"

The chainsaw had been taken over by his manic and insane side. His face was warped with a deadly razor-sharp toothed grin. He tore through the foliage for Law, breaking down any unfortunate limb or bush in his way in his deranged fervor. "I'll kill you! I'LL KILL YOU!"

Just as he was but a few strides away from the boy, he jumped up, and almost as if in slow motion, Justin watched the man's body rise into the air. The heretic was pulling his leg back, twisting his body around, as swirling light appeared around his lower leg. His chainsaw blades were tearing around the limb, slicing through the air. Justin already knew where those blades would make their place. Giriko was going to decapitate him, it was obvious! And if he wasn't too afraid, so paralyzed by shock and pain, it would've been easy to avoid. He had done is countless times before, but this fight was different; he had lost so long ago.

The rage displayed on Sou's face was enough to frighten even the bravest of soldiers; it practically showed his need and hunger for blood lust.

As Justin stared on, Giriko's leg swinging around and only getting closer to his neck, his arms fell limply to his side. He sickly glanced up at the heretic's face, down to the chains that were now dangerously close to his jugular.

Then as if time sped up once again, Giriko suddenly was sent flying to the side. He released a loud yelp of pain as something collided into his ribcage, him and the object tumbling until he came to a halt, slamming against the trunk of a tree.

Justin fell to his knees, dazed and terrified as he stared up at the place Giriko had once been with his mouth agape. He was gazing into space as he took into account how close to death he had come. Limply sitting on his knees now, he looked out of the corner of his eyes to where the seemingly never ending slur of swear words escaped the chainsaw. However, doing so, Justin noticed something. That wasn't an object that had impacted Giriko mid-air. No… It was _lover_, Spirit Albarn.

The two men were throwing punches as they struggled for dominance over one another. Spirit would struggle to pin down Giriko and attempt to slug him in the face before his attack would become blocked. Sou, deflecting all of Spirit's moves, finally found strength to flip the scythe over and pin Albarn down against the mud and grass. They did this back and forth for quite some time before, at last, Giriko had ended the struggled. He had pinned down and kneed Spirit in the gut, sending a sharp pain through the redhead's stomach, surely knocking the wind out of him.

Taking his chance, Giriko quickly stood to his feet, glaring down at the Deathscythe as he snarled in frustration. Once again the red-head had interfered with issues between him and the priest. About now this man almost frustrated him just as much as Justin did concerning his religion.

"Tch…." The chainsaw couldn't help but groan a little in annoyance as he looked over the two heaps crumbled on the ground. He studied them for the longest of moments, just hearing the soft whimpers announcing their twisted agony.

Justin Law and Spirit Albarn looked so pathetic there, covered in gore with only god knows how many injuries. It actually amused Sou greatly. In fact, he even felt his cracked and chapped lips curling up into a sickening smile with his shark-like teeth being bared. It wasn't long before he let out a pelt of chuckles.

"Yer both so _stupid_!" His body shook again from finishing off his laughter. "Ya' two seemed so confident when we firs' met up…. How's tha' fuckin' goin' fer ya? _Huh_? Still thin' yer god damned _love_ can keep ya _alive_, and help ya _win_?"

Spirit grunted slightly as he lifted his face from the dirt, pushing himself up to glare at Sou as he gritted his teeth. Justin on the other hand, still sat in the same spot, shaken, traumatized, cold, frightened and, most importantly, hurt.

"News flash, ya faggots! Love ain't no powerful force! It's jus' a feeling that makes ya wan'ta fuck each other an' lick up the remains! There ain't nothin' special 'bout it!" Giriko's hostile brown eyes moved from Justin, to Spirit, then back to Law again.

After a moment, he charged toward Justin once more, the earsplitting shriek of a chainsaw revving up, resonating through the forest. The scruffy man was on a course to finish off the priest once and for all. As he charged forward, Justin tried to quickly stand. The boy's eyes widened, as he gasped in a large breath and his felt his heart literally stop. Sadly, as he tried to stand, he only found himself back on the ground, the sound of the chainsaw only progress closer at a dangerous rate. Law let out a small cry of terror.

Although, a split second later, he felt something crush him, pressing him down into the dirt and mud further. It was warm, yes, wet, but warm. Glancing up, Justin found Spirit had thrown himself onto him, as if to use his own body as some human shield.

The scythe had seen what was going to happen and sprinted for Justin. Since he was closer, he got to him before the chainsaw did, if only by a few seconds. Upon reaching the boy, made sure to protect him. Spirit had closed his arms around Justin, encasing him under his body, just as Justin let out a horrid shriek.

Spirit was going to die. Those chains would rip through his spine, shattering his bones and splitting through his major arteries…. Spirit was going to die and it was going to be _Justin's_ fault.

Law tried to thrash under him, but it was of no use. He was just too weak, and Spirit much too heavy for him to push off. Turning his head just slightly, Justin could see past Spirit's red locks and into the dark sky, the rain plummeting down on them. And when Justin saw Giriko rise above them, coming into view of his small window of vision, Justin inhaled a sharp, yet shaky gasp, fat tears quickly running down his cheeks.

Giriko came down upon them, the sound of his blades changing as they were no longer moving freely through the air…. But ripping through something… someone…..

"SPIRIT!"

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**Majority of Chapter by: Wolf**

****Ending by: Sporkie


	23. Soul Resonance

We apologize for the long wait for this chapter. We started this one quite a long time ago, but due to the fact that it turned out so long as well as issues with friends and family we weren't able to get it out until now.  
Anyway, once again sorry for the way. Enjoy.

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**Chapter 23: Soul Resonance**

Spirit found himself falling towards the rain beaten earth, splashing down into the mud and landing upon his knees and elbows with a grunt. He wasn't sure what exactly had sent him down, though he knew it was at his own doing in the end. Perhaps it was instinct? His head was down, as he shakily waited for the impact. He expected the horrendous ripping of that bastard's saw through his flesh. Spirit was acting as a barrier over his lover who lay on the ground close to being completely unresponsive. Albarn wasn't sure how, but thankfully he had made it across the clearing before Giriko had reached Justin. Perhaps Giriko had taken too long getting his saws into the gear he wanted. Whatever the case, here he was now. Spirit ground his teeth together and kept his eyes tightly shut. His body settled down on Law's, his arms wrapping around him in a tight embrace. He waited for any lacerations to come. Those lacerations, of course, he'd gladly take for Justin any day.

The boy's body beneath him was cold to the touch, his robes soaked and icy from the chilly river water and air. If he wasn't dead already from the gashes and blood loss, he certainly wouldn't last much longer thanks to hypothermia. Then again, neither of them would.

The scythe could see the flash of swirling light from behind him and out of the corner of his eye. Next came the deafening, shrilling shriek of Giriko's blades as it twisting around his lower leg. That sound belonged to Giriko's second gear. Spirit's body tensed, and suddenly another light illuminated through the forest momentarily. Lightning perhaps? And it was then the sound of Giriko's gears dangerously whipping around his leg had changed. The tone no longer sounded like they were twisting freely through the air. It sounded as though they were trying to rip through _something._

That something, of course, was Spirit Albarn.

"SPIRIT!"

The red-head winced thanks to Justin crying out his name in a panic near his ear. There was a savage grinding sound of metal against metal. The teeth on Giriko's chainsaw blades were cutting across the blade that protruded from Spirit's back. Yes, a blade, not his flesh.

That light before was not caused by the storm, but Albarn instead. He had manifested an obsidian black scythe blade that was now the only thing preventing Giriko's foot from mutilating his back, severing major arteries, and inevitably murdering him. The elder Deathscythe grit his teeth tighter as he let out a small grunt. The Chainsaw's chains were rotating, grinding and hacking away at his own blade. The metal of his blade was being chipped at, worn down and scratched. It hurt, yes, oh _God_ yes, but it was worth it if it meant saving his and Justin's life…

"Spi-...rit..." Justin heaved in a shaky hoarse breath. Law was staring up at his red-haired lover, his eyes dulled and almost dead looking, yet extremely concerned all the same. Spirit's own eyes looked back, pain obvious in them, with tears even accumulating on the rim on his eyes. Yet, somehow, Albarn managed to turn up a weak, but incredibly loving smile on his visage as he stared back into those wonderful eyes of his companion's.

Feeling guilty would have been a _terrible_ understatement for Law at this point. His body was so broken, so limp. He had tried to get away from Giriko. He had tried to escape the line of attack, but when Sou had started toward him he had froze up, and his body had denied him any movement. And now, with Spirit hovering over him, suffering through pain of the heretic's weapon grinding through his own, Justin couldn't help but feel it was his entire fault. Small tears dripped from the corner of his eyes. He was too tired to even reach out and touch the scythe. What kind of lover was he to Spirit? He couldn't even protect him, comfort him or simply touch him.

Giriko grinned, looming over the scythe. His sharp teeth were clenched, grinding against each other. It seems that his attack was of no use. So, using Spirit as something to push off of, he jumped back. He switched his gear off, his chains ceasing to rotate as he now stood aside from them. He rubbed his runny nose with his thumb. "Ya fuckin' pieces of waste. Yer half dead, and still wantin' ta fight me? _Seriously_? Wha' the fuck is wrong wit' ya two?"

Becoming weak, Spirit's arms loosened around the boy. He no longer embraced him as tightly. His mutilated and grinded down blade, with nicks and horrid gashes engraved into the weapon, retreated black into his body with a flash. His body, however, still lay on and protected Justin's. He didn't dare leave him exposed to Giriko. He was afraid he might hurt the boy, laying on him like that, but honestly his body was so spent at that point he could barely lift himself up off the boy. Turning his head to kiss Justin's neck softly with his cold, and chapped lips he murmured, "shh... it's okay... y-you don't have to talk."

Justin let out a small sob when he was kissed. He wanted to kiss Spirit back, but he couldn't move. Was he paralyzed? No, was able to move just slightly under Spirit, nuzzling his shoulder back. He huffed and heaved, his sides torn and aching. He was going into a sort of shock. Feverish, but feeling cold, he kept shaking and shivering in his robes.

The priest didn't want Spirit to sacrifice himself for, in his mind, an already lost case. Justin knew he was one thread away from dying. There was no 'if' to it. He knew he would. Spirit still had a chance to live. Justin saw his wavelength still held some light. His own, well, it was dim and barely flickering. "G-Get out of here. N-Now..." He spoke, but he sounded drugged, if not drunk. His words slurred horribly.

Albarn stared sadly into Justin's eyes before he turned his head, rubbing it in the mud before it was facing Giriko. His cheeks were cut up and bleeding, his eye was black; all were wounds from their previous little spat, and more than likely from Asura as well. However, his eyes still held a small ounce of determination and hope, and that was all he needed. "We-...We have something to live for Giriko," he finally said aloud, replying to the awful man. "There is nothing wrong with that. We have something to live, and to die for. I-Is that why you keep regenerating yourself? Passing your genes down? Do-Do you not have something to die for? ... A-Are you _afraid_ to die, Sou?"

"YOU FUCKIN' PIECE OF DOG SHIT!" Walking over roughly, he lashed out and caught Spirit in the ribs. Spirit grunted as Sou's foot impacted his side. He ended up being kicked off of Justin, but he quickly scrambled over to him. He laid ontop of the boy again, again using his upper body to cover Law. Now, though, the priest was more exposed now than he had been before. Spirit coughed a little, specks of blood splattering against the dirt, blending in with the mud as well as staining Justin's dirty white mantle.

"YER WANTIN' TA PREACH TO ME, JUS' LIKE THAT FUCKIN' PEW RAT DOES? HA! DUN MAKE ME FUCKIN' LAUGH!" He spat upon the red head, pointing harshly at him. "What, ya dun think I'm good enough to regenerate? And, 'sides, if yer implyin' that I dun have love in my life, let me tell you: I dun need love. I need NOTHIN'. I have everythin' RIGHT HERE. All I want is to fuckin' destroy! To fuckin' destroy, an' to see you two DIE!"

Gritting his teeth, Spirit looked up through his matted down, soaking wet bangs. His eyes were cold and harsh, even dangerous looking. He was like an abused dog finally fed up with its abuse, becoming enraged enough to want to take down its master with no mercy. Growling a little, Spirit moved in a quick motion, swinging his leg around in attempts to knock Giriko to the ground as he quickly stood to his feet. He wobbled once standing, but managed to gain his bearings. "What exactly is 'here' that you _have_ Giriko? You destroy everything you want. Therefore, in the end, what you want is _non-existent_- Unless, of course, _destruction_ is what you want. But what then? Your quest would be never ending then. You'll never be satisfied, you'll _never_ be happy!"

Letting out a yelp of pure surprise, Giriko had hit the ground once Spirit had tripped him with his leg. His body slapped against the wet mud, sending particles water splashing up. Snarling at Spirit, he snapped, "SHUT UP! YA FUCKIN' ASSHOLE! I don't want to hear yer SHIT!" Getting to his own feet again, he took a stumbling step back. With a flash he manifested his chains once again. "Ya think you can tell me what's right, an' what is wrong? Ya think you can be like this and prove yer better than me? JUS' 'CUZ YA FOUND SOMEONE WHO COULD LOVE YA? YA THINK YER BETTER THAN ME FER THA'?"

"I don't need to prove I am better than you... And I don't _think_ I am better than you. Giriko, I _know_ I _AM_ better than you. I always have been! I think that's why you're so infuriated." Spirit reached over, holding his ribs as he tried to keep standing upright. Sure, those blades intimidated him, especially while he was in this poor condition, but he had his own blades to protect himself with. His body jerked gradually, shifting as a scythe manifested from his back. His right arm from the elbow down had also taken the form of the pole of a scythe, with the blade at the end. Even despite only one blade taking Sou's attack earlier, the two forming from him had had similar chips and cuts, both blades projecting out of him appearing gnarled. "You're jealous of us... You're jealous Justin can live so peaceful and happily. You're jealous that he has respect from others and you don't. You're jealous that we have someone to love and love us back. Perhaps you're even jealous we have a family... Why else would you hate our guts so much? We didn't do anything wrong to you. What happened Sou? ... Why did you lose all your respect and love for the people around you?"

Seeing what Spirit was doing, Justin's face registered alarm. Spirit was beginning to ready himself for an assault. He started to whimper, and it wasn't long before sobs were heard from him. He slowly sat up, but with obvious difficulty and much pain. He tried to reach out to the older Deathscythe. "S-Spirit..._don't_. P-Please, don't don't fight. I-" He hiccupped hard, tears gushing down his dirtied face. "I don't wa...w-want to lose you!"

Laughing, Giriko rolled his eyes after looking from Spirit, to Justin, then back again. "Yer gonna fight me, Deathscythe? Yer... gonna try an' fight me? FINE. _Fight_ me. I'll show ya JUS' how fuckin' JEALOUS I am. I'll show you by ELIMINATIN' ya!" He revved his engine, and then silently spat out, "family. Who needs a family? A family makes ya soft an' stupid. Makes ya emotional. I dun care 'bout love. Love got me nowhere. Love got me into TROUBLE."

Spirit ignored the younger man on the ground below him. He faced forward, focused on Giriko's ugly mug in front of him. "Go ahead. Fight me... But I refuse to let you touch Justin AND Jordon, ever again!" Spirit narrowed his eyes, crouching down a little so he was in a fighting position. If Justin was smart he'd run off while he stalled Sou.

Justin didn't run off. He didn't _want_ to. He knew by now he had gathered enough strength to _possibly_ do so, but for some reason it was like he was stuck where he was sitting. His heart was chained in place. He was rooted, and he just couldn't leave Spirit alone. Not again. The idea of them splitting up in the first place had proven to be a bad idea. They had both gone through hell. Now Justin wouldn't dare leave his lover's side. He would die alongside Spirit if his lover died. He'd hang on just long enough for him. It was the least he could do.

Giriko waved Spirit on, amused. "Heh, fine. Ya get yer first hit in. Entertain me 'fore ya die." He braced himself, his blades glistening with blood. Not just any blood. It was _Justin's_ blood. The boy's blood had dried on those blades in various places. As Giriko pulled up the chains and wrapped them a little around his wrist, he made sure that some of the blood was seen as a mocking reminder.

"Justin..." Spirit murmured, his voice sounded demanding, dead serious. Was it a threat, or merely a warning, but whatever it was, it certainly wasn't happy. "Justin! Get out of here! You have two legs, don't you? So RUN!" He crouched down even lower, taking a cautious step toward Giriko. The entire time he didn't remove eye contact from the enemy that stood across from him.

"I... won't." Justin shook his head, and he slowly pushed himself up from his sitting position. He looked so fragile, so weak, he appeared as if he were about to fall apart. "I...won't leave your side. I ...I refuse to. I will not leave your side. I... am going to be here for you." He gave a weak smile. "Y-You can get angry at me for it later, but I won't leave you..."

Getting impatient, Giriko snarled at the scythe. "If ya wanna fuckin' fight... yer wastin' time. JUS' DO IT! Show me how much I'm 'missing out on'!"

"GET OUT OF HERE LAW! THAT'S NOT A REQUEST! As an official Deathscythe and protector of the citizens of America, I remind you that you are on my soil now! As such, I demand you to leave for your safety! As your lover and friend! As the father of your child! For the love of _God_, just LEAVE!" Albarn had been watching Justin during that time, but as soon as he spat out that last word his head snapped back to look at the chainsaw before him.

Screaming out a sort of enraged cry, Spirit charged forward, his arm reared back and ready to swing forward through Giriko's neck once within range.

"S-SPIRIT!" The priest's tears flowed freely as he clutched at his torn and cut robes. Falling to his knees, he sobbed so hard he nearly vomited within his mouth. Spirit's words scared him. He was terrified at how angry his lover seemed. He begged Spirit breathlessly as he charged at the chainsaw. "PLE-PLEASE! Don't send me away! D—Don't fight him! You're going to die…!"

Laughing out loud, amused by Spirit's charge and battle cry, Sou charged right back at him. His eyes widened with rage and mania, spittle flew from his mouth as he screamed. He slid forward, turning, so water splashed in Spirit's face. With that came a punch. It was a punch so hard, so fast, he hoped to catch the scythe off guard.

"JUSTIN! LEAVE-" Spirit stopped suddenly, skidding to a halt as water was splashed into his eyes. He instantly lifted his untransformed hand, attempting to wipe away the muddy water. However, when he opened his eyes, all he saw was a blur before an agonizing impact collided into his face. He tumbled backwards, instantly thrown to the ground from the attack, dazed and confused by what had happened he just lay on the ground a moment.

"SPIRRIIIIT!" Justin's eyes flew open wide with fear. His heart stopped for a moment, and he tried crawling towards the man. "G-GET UP! RIGHT NOW! DON'T LAY THERE! GET UP, GET UP!"

"DON'T LET ME DOWN! I wanted a good fight. Yer a Deathscythe, not some fuckin' TOY!" Nearly pouncing upon the scythe, he grabbed him up by the collar. "Yer not some toy that hasta be wielded 'fore ya can be used fer battle. Be like me or yer fuckin', shitty lover over there. FIGHT ME WITHOUT A FUCKIN' MEISTER!"

With a feral sort of blood wrath flowing through his veins like oil, he found strength to slam Spirit, repeatedly, against the muddy shore. The rocks littering the place would be used as a battery ram of sorts, assaulting the man's skull. Spirit grunted with each slam into the earth. He quickly called back his transformation, causing his arm to go back to normal and the blade on his back to disappear. He reached up, trying to pry Giriko's grasp from his collar. He clenched his teeth tight, trying his best to brace himself for the repeating impacts into the ground. After the fifth time of this, Giriko reared up, flinging Spirit aside like a rag doll. "YER PATHETIC! WEAK!"

"I-I'd like to see you take on the Kishin, _then_ take on some idiot chainsaw!" Spirit grunted in a whisper from between clenched teeth. He tried to ignore Justin's cries but that wasn't really working. Grabbing the side of a tree trunk he attempted to pull himself up, clutching at the bark with his finger tips to drag himself to his feet. But once up he had to lean against the tree for support, finding it terribly difficult to stand on his own. "P—Please, Justin..." he murmured and weakly exhaled. "Go find Jordon..."

Wiping his eyes, the priest glared at Spirit. Something in him had changed. Despite the agony in just talking, he snapped, "no, I _won't_." He knew that sounded bad, but he knew what shape he was in. Sucking in his breath, he exhaled it slowly, steadying himself. "I ...will not make it if I try on my own." He flicked his pained gaze over at Spirit, and he frowned. "Use me, r-right now. Use me as a weapon, Spirit... or we'll N-NEVER find Jordon."

"N-NO! JUSTIN I CAN DO THI-" Before he could finish Giriko had lunged forward, grabbing Spirit by the hair, and with a fistful of his locks attempted to send him flying toward the ground once more. However, somehow or another Spirit managed to keep his balance long enough until his opponent let go. Giriko was laughing all the while.

"YOU ARE JUST AMAZIN'! YER NOT GONNA BEAT ME, A LONE HERETIC CHAINSAW?" He put a hand over his face, chuckling into it. "This is jus' far too funny! I'm able to beat two Deathscythes...!"

Albarn grunted, before opening his eyes up, squinting at the chainsaw. He gritting his teeth before grabbing Giriko by the collar of the shirt, and pulling Sou toward him and up, hoping to lift him off the ground a little before slamming _him_ into the tree. "G-God damm-mit…. SHUT UP!"

Snarling once he found himself face to face with soggy bark, he lurched backwards, slamming his body up against Spirit's gut and chest. He then sharply threw back his arm, his elbow catching the scythe in the side. He hoped to momentarily wind him, or at least shrug him off. Not stopping his rage, he whirled around, aiming to push the weapon over. "GET THE FUCK OFFA ME!"

Spirit stumbled to the side, falling to the ground inevitably after trying to keep himself up from Giriko's attack. He grunted, but quickly stood even despite that pain that burned through his limbs.

Justin found himself getting up again, stumbling to his feet and making his way over towards Spirit. With each step he took, droplets of his own blood fell and spattered against the muddy ground. He heaved, panting from his exertion. His heart was slowing down, and his body trembled uncontrollably. Sucking in a shaky breath, before he could stop his words from burbling forth, he screamed, "F-FOR GOD'S SAKE, SPIRIT. U-USE ME! IF YOU LOVE ME, USE ME!"

"JUSTIN! N-NO! DON'T TRY TO MANIPULATE ME LIKE THAT! I DON'T WANT YOU HURT-!" Coughing again he found a larger amount of blood was hacked up, splattering against his freezing and almost blue looking palm. That frightened him. What kind of internal damage had he suffered? Perhaps it would be smart to use his lover after all. As much as he would hate himself for doing so, he was getting nowhere and it certainly wouldn't be long before his body decided to give out on him. "F-Fine... I've never used another a-as a weapon before though.. I-I'm not even sure if I can, Jasu!"

Justin sadly smiled. "T-Thank you," he murmured weakly, watching as Giriko stood there mockingly laughing at their attempt. "We share a b—bond," he mused thoughtfully, trying to explain his reasoning behind the attempt. "So it may just work..." He closed his eyes. For a moment it looked as if he was about to give up and collapse, crumpling to the ground. But then it came. It was the trademark flurry of light, motion and energy that came with a transformation.

This case, though, was very different.

Normally when a weapon would transform for their Meister, they would disappear into a bluish white light. The light represented their soul, their link of power. Justin, when he transformed, was in such a damaged, dying shape that his wavelength was not healthy. His white light wasn't there. Instead the light was red, the same hue as blood. Perhaps it was the illusion of the two viewing weapon's mind but when Justin's form erupted into that unnatural light, the crimson sprinkled down, just like a shower of blood.

It was done. Adorning one of Spirit's torn sleeves was that of an upside down cross. Protruding from it was the blade of a guillotine. The horrifying part was the blades were dulled, and it appeared that a thin river of blood constantly trickled out from between the sleeve and the blade.

"J-…. Justin…. I…" The red-haired man stared down in terror at the sight of his lover's weapon form. Was he so badly injured that even in this form blood was escaping him? Spirit gulped. "I can't fight with you, Justin. I refus—"

"J-Just do it," Justin weakly choked out. His teeth were clenched together, and he felt his entire body become engulfed in what seemed to be a fiery magma overspill of pure agony. He was barely able to keep this form, but he _had_ to. If he didn't, he might as well be dead on the ground now. He gasped again, feeling a tidal wave of pain slam into him once more. He couldn't last much longer like this. "Spirit...j-just g-get him down, and m—make it fast..."

"Right..." Spirit lifted his head, trying to push the thought that Justin was possibly dying, out of his head so he could focus on the task at hand, and get this over quickly. However, that proved rather difficult. Narrowing his eyes he glared at Sou, steadying himself... who would make the first move...?

"HA." Is this a fuckin' joke? Giriko finally decided to speak up after letting the two wounded lovebirds make small talk and equally smaller plans. He began wiping his mouth of any stray drippings of blood. He leered at him, a slimy grin that was a putrid as toxic waste. "Yer gunna use the half dead fag ta kill me?"

Silence. Nothing came from Spirit or Justin. The beaten and abused scythe just stood there, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he gasped and heaved for breath.

Shaking his head, Sou just chuckled. He wiped his nose, and made sure his engine was revved to the highest gear- third. He was ready to kill. "Come on! Show me whatcha got. Show me th' fuckin' POWER of yer god'am LOVE. Show me what I'm MISSIN'."

"Go ahead," Spirit murmured, trying his best to ignore the comments that overflowed from Giriko's filthy mouth. "Make the first move."

God this chainsaw was annoying. Did he ever just shut up? Spirit braced himself, ready for if Giriko might attack. His plan? Dodge. He would dodge and make the man tired before he'd go in for an attack when his rival would have a larger margin for error.

"Fine. Do it th' way." Giriko suddenly lunged forward, moving in to attack. He whipped out his chain, lashing it out like it was some lassoed rope. It swung out in a large radius, the rotating blades hissing through the air as they got closer towards Spirit's face and torso. "SHOW ME A GOOD FIGHT, YA FUCKER!"

Quickly Spirit dove down, avoiding the path of the chains that whizzed right towards him. He rolled out of the way, tumbling. He managed to pull together some strength in order to somersault out of pathway of danger. Once more on his feet, Spirit found that he now stood to the side of Sou instead of directly in front of him. He winced when he stopped however. That move didn't feel that great with his internal wounds and cracked ribs. "Tch... this isn't good..."

"S-Spirit..." Justin's voice wavered from the weapon, and for a split moment the boy's image could be seen on the dulled metal blade. "Be careful. Just... a-avoid him at all costs without hurting yourself further!"

"I-I'm trying Justin!" The scythe cried out in frustration through gritted teeth.

"YOU LIT'L-!" Giriko whirled around instantly, lashing out with the chained blade. He wasn't giving up. He was going to slice the scythe up no matter what! He turned his body as the chains whipped towards Spirit. He was grinning like a mad man, spittle flying from his gaping, smiling maw.

Hearing Sou, Albarn quickly snapped his head up, panic stricken eyes falling upon the attack that was sent directly in his direction. He dove for the ground and out of the way. He barely got away scot free for he felt the hissing sound of the chains as they flew past him. The blades whiplashed against a tree instead, sending shards from the attack to bounce off the bark and showering onto Deathscythe's body. With a grunt, Spirit pushed himself back up, before charging on two wobbly feet toward the heretic.

Giriko barely had time to prepare for a counter attack. He was re-wrapping the chains around his fist when he saw Spirit charging at him from the corner of his eye. Yelling out like a deranged banshee, he shifted position and turned towards Spirit. He raised the chains up, wrapping them over his chest like a protective barrier; It was a technique he used against Justin all the time. It had worked then, and he hoped it would work again.

Spirit swung his arm forward, Justin's blade colliding into the chains Giriko had unfortunately put up as protection. The clash of metal rung through the air as sparks flew. Less than a second later, Spirit jumped back, pulling Justin's blade away, not wanting to put anymore strain on the young priest than he had to. The boy's soul was fading, and _fast_. It seemed that each moment that passed by his soul was becoming harder and harder to sense. "Justin?" Spirit whispered in low, panic stricken voice. "Justin!"

It took a few seconds, but a weak and choking, "I-I'm h-here," was heard. It was accompanied by a small cough. Inside the weapon, a trickle of blood was sneaking down his mouth. Just _great_. He tried to focus on raising his soul wavelength through prayers. "Do anything just to stop him!"

"YA GET BACK HERE, YA DAMN RAT!"

Spirit's gaze flicked up from his lover's image at that cry. His eyes altering from frightened, to determined, in a matter of seconds.

Giriko charged at the man, sending a few roundhouse kicks at the Scythe. Attempting to kick him at least once, he wanted to quickly plant that foot on the man's chest before swinging around the other that he had been standing on. As he pulled off his wanted move, everything was going perfectly. He lifted up off the ground with his jump, his body constantly spinning like he was some insane ballerina full of blood lust. The thing of it, though, was that the blades were now rotating up and down his leg from the knee down. The chains were spinning so fast they were a brilliant blur-a streak of light tinted with purple, red and white. He was aiming right for the Spirit's heart.

"J-Justin... d-do you think we could do a soul reson-" He was cut short when he looked up to see the heretic attacking him. He barely dodged the attack, stumbling off to the side as Giriko landed on both legs. Muddy water splashed up on his pants leg as the heretic landed right beside him. "F—Fuck!"

The guillotine weapon knew what Spirit was suggesting, and he had to admit, while it would wear Justin's soul down, diminishing it even further, about now it seemed like it could possibly be their last hope. That one last attempt by the two could save them.

Volleys of attacks then were played out by each side. They were like savage tigers clashing in that soggy forest, each hit powerful and bone shattering. There were beasts trying to down the other in a fit of crazed survival.

Spirit stumbled back, quickly trying to move to avoid the attacks that Giriko threw at him. He dodged and ducked away from his foot that flew past his head and body. However, spotting an opportunity, Albarn decided to take it. Narrowing his eyes he actually moved into Giriko. A blade manifest from his arm, blocking Giriko's rotating blades that ground against the red-head's limb. With the other arm, he grabbed his rival by the thigh, his arm wrapping around it, and Justin's blade burying into the man's flesh.

The entire time Spirit had been trying, if at all possible, to not use Justin to block but attack instead. It would have been less harsh on the priest, and the older man knew that.

Justin gasped out as he felt his bladed form go into Giriko. For a moment he felt repulsed, literally being inside of his enemy and surrounded by his tissue, blood and muscle... but he knew this _had_ to happen. Giriko shrieked out in pain, twisting this way and that. A slew of swearwords poured out of his mouth like a swift flowing stream.

"S-SOUL RESONANCE!" Justin's voice was laden with so much pain, he was nearly begging it. He knew this had a risk of backfiring, or even blowing apart his fragile wavelength, but he feared that was the only way to go about it. He also knew they had to do it, fast, while Giriko was incapacitated. "P-PLEASE!"

Sou lashed out, his wet and rain soaked fist slamming against the side of Spirit's head. After that, though, he momentarily got paralyzed due to the newly ripped open gash in his leg. His little movement of that hurt him even more. He threw his head back, cursing and swearing out the Gods above and the beings in front of him.

As he fell from the impact to the head, Spirit manifested and swung out a scythe blade, the jagged edge ripping across Sou's chest as he tumbled back. However, he plummeted to the ground hard, instantly becoming disoriented from the blow to his skull. His blade slid back into his arm, and once again only Law's guillotine blade remained.

Spirit had already suffered tremendous damage to the head from Asura, and this now almost felt like it released all the pain from his previous battles with the now fleeing God. He fell to the soaked earth, the squishy mud cushioning his fall, if only a tad. He tried to get up, his muscles tensing as he tried to push himself off of the ground. However he relaxed rather quickly, his body giving out from the exertion he put on himself and eventually going limp before toppling into the mud and grass. The pain that wracked through his head was unfathomable. His body trembled.

"S-SPIRIT! GET UP, G-GET UP!" Justin's voice cried out.

Not far from them, Giriko struggled as well to stay standing as he fussed with his limb that now drenched his pant leg with gore. Losing his usually semi-stable balance, Giriko collapsed to the earth.

Justin was begging, tears staining his already fatigued voice. Another gush of blood trickled down from the blade, and he hacked. He felt his form weakening. What should he do? Forget the form and manifest to lie across Spirit in his final moments? Or-?

No. He could do something else. _Soul Resonance_, he thought. He closed his dim blue eyes, and for a brief millisecond his entire wavelength snapped off. No aura came from the boy. It was as if he had been erased from the face of the earth, and no remnants lingered behind save for that dinged and dented guillotine blade.

Slowly warmth came over Spirit. It was luscious, like the gentle breeze on a warm spring day. It was clear and crisp, clean of any taint. It was brilliantly bright, strong and powerful- like a shield. Faintly, over Spirit's own weakening aura, Justin had merged his soul with the scythe's. He was attempting to do his part of the fusion first, hoping to spur Spirit on.

Spirit felt that warmth. It was like a blanket had wrapped itself around him. No, it was _better_ than a blanket. It was like the arms of his lover were holding him tight. Had Justin transformed back? He managed to crack open his eyes. He looked up through squinted eyelids just to find nothing more than trees and rain. He grunted a little as another wave of pain pulsed through his head. It was at that time, though, he realized what was going on. "Soul... _resonance,_" He said, stating his epiphany aloud in a whisper. Now his soul was allowing Justin's in, and merging with his as well.

"That's the Deathscythe I know," Justin murmured. No longer was his voice sounding from the weapon. His voice was now resonating from within Spirit's _head_. He let out a sigh of relief, before tensing up again. He couldn't relax. He couldn't lose focus. Not while they were bringing their souls together to create one with their already strong bond.

"Haven't I always said you give me strength Justin...?" Spirit said through pained and gritted teeth.

"Wha' the..." Giriko sloppily got back up to his feet. He stared at Spirit, not believing what he was seeing. Did the man have a soft glow about him? No... Could it really be? Had he gotten power somehow? From _where_? No matter what, Spirit was now dangerous. He was regaining strength somehow or another, and now… _Now_ Giriko was on the losing side. Being a weapon that used his legs for combat more than anything, fighting was now going to prove rather difficult now that his one leg was cut up. He took the moment to rev his gear up, cranking it slowly into 3rd gear, but wincing in pain as he did so. "KEEP LYIN' THERE, YA BASTARD. DON'T GET UP!"

Slowly Albarn used the trunk of a tree to help him to his feet, ignoring Sou's demands to stay down. He felt a little stronger if anything. And once he was up straight, he quickly held out his arm, the one with Justin's blade on it. He held it in front of him. He stood in a defensive sort of stance, one that Justin himself was often seen in. While one arm was stretched out, the palm facing his enemy, the limb with the blade on it was bent at the elbow. His hand with the blade adorned to that appendage resting on the inside of the other arm's elbow and its edge aimed toward Sou.

As the man gripped his arm, near the inside of his elbow, the blade that was protruding from the white cross on Albarn's torn up and dirtied sleeve enlarged. Its size nearly doubling, its color was taking on all shades of the rainbow. The hues shimmered and danced across the blade, like it was very well made up of one itself. It glowed brightly, lighting up Spirit's body and face with an intense white radiance, despite the darkness that surrounded them. Regardless of Giriko's comments, Spirit simply closed his eyes, keeping his stance. His emerald iris's disappeared behind his beaten eyelids.

There was a moment where Spirit did nothing; he simply breathed in and at a calm rate as he stood there, wide open for any attack. However, the chainsaw weapon was so puzzled by why the man was just standing there, that he didn't even think to use this moment to his advantage. All Giriko would be greeted by was the sound of the rain and howling wind. As the storm pounded down on Spirit, he simply stood there with his eyes closed; the light intensifying and fading just slightly like it was pulsing.

Giriko noticed Spirit's lips begin to move, words were being murmured from them, but he wouldn't be unable to hear from where he stood what he said. Even if he was right next to him, they would have been inaudible. There were two reasons for this, actually. One quite obviously being the volume of the storm, but the other being that he was barely creating verbal words as it was.

Snapping his eyes back up to face Sou, there would be a difference almost in Spirit's appearance. What exactly it was, Giriko wouldn't be able to put his finger on.

Justin had been murmuring the same words as Spirit, in unison the spoke the phrases together. He was Spirit's voice. While Spirit's words were hardly a whisper, within Albarn's mind Justin spoke aloud. Even he had his head bowed, his weary eyes closed as he focused on pouring every bit of his soul he had left into this one attack. Already he could feel his form starting to break down. He knew he wouldn't be able to hold it for much longer. The second he fused with Spirit, he knew this very fact. Sadly, he realized weapons could barely fuse with other weapons without complications.

"F-FUCK!" Giriko finally snapped out of his daydream. Instantly kicked his rotating saws into third gear. He whipped them into action, raising his leg. He knew that stance. He knew it all too well. _God dammit, _he thought vehemently_._ He spit out a wad of blood from his mouth, scowling deeply. _That's the same attack the goddamn PRIEST does on me. He's REALLY PISSIN' ME OFF!_

Giriko was preparing for a Wave of Genocide. If Spirit went through with the move, and he couldn't get away, this is would be his only chance for survival.

It was then Giriko might realize the change in Spirit's appearance. It was those eyes! It was those empty blue eyes... Those weren't Spirit's. No, they were _Justin's_. The words that he murmured gradually grew louder, shouting out over the rain.

"Oh, God, let us be an instrument of your peace. We are pillars of justice, together creating a blade of faith. In the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit..."

The sound of the voice was of Albarn's. That being the case, it wasn't him _speaking_ those words. It was Justin who was speaking from within the man's very soul, his words spilling out of him using his lover's vocal chords. There was a pause before Spirit's eyes narrowed, his eyebrows pulling together. Without warning Giriko would hear both of their voices. Both screaming out from Spirit's lung, they yelled, "LAW ABIDING SILVER GUN!"

_WHAT IS THIS? _Giriko felt chills scatter up his spine. He could harness the power to control puppets and Golems, it was true. But this... _this_ was like Law had adapted Giriko's role. No, not only was he _using_ Spirit's body, like a master yanking on the puppet's strings, but he was also _coexisting_ by _letting_ Spirit have free will. It was a sublime mixture-a pure fusion. Two souls had_ literally_ becoming one. What one being did, the other did as well. Like two halves of a butterfly, black and white, merging to become a monochromatic gray.

Hearing both of those voices scream out those words made him almost want to soil himself. He took a step backwards, slipping on a bit on the mud. He glanced up just to see the ray of light blast out from the weapon, lighting the entire sky and nearly blinding him with its intensity. He didn't quite recall that attack to be so grand… Had the soul resonance amplified the attacks strength? It was the biggest amount of energy he had ever seen summoned up at a time. _FUCK! _He growled, grinding his teeth. There were only seconds before impact, and he couldn't flee now…

Seconds...

Miliseconds...

"WAVE OF GENOCIDE!"

An eruption of power blasted out as the chainsaw leapt up into the air, only to slam his foot down onto the soggy ground. Great masses of debris were ripped from the earth and thrown up into the air. In a cataclysmic display of grandiose proportions, both energy waves met head on.

As the two attacks met, both Spirit and Giriko were sent tumbling backwards as the intense heat and energy of the impact caused enough force to do so. It smoldered the earth, leaving behind dried, cracked mud as well as burnt vegetation. The trees surrounding the area snapped like they were simply twigs, while some had been scorched until they hardly resembled nothing but blackened poles protruding from the dirt. Where once they had been in a heavily forested area with the limbs of the trees helping to prevent the onslaught from the downpour, now they stood in an area that resembled a barren lifeless segment of land that was nearly a quarter of a mile in diameter.

For a moment all seemed fine. As the smoke wafted into the air and the debris settled down to the ground, peace seemed to wash over the now battered battlefield. Giriko lay several feet away, dazed and winded. His clothes had been instantly dried upon feeling the heat of the blast. The period of dryness as ending soon, however, since he was getting wet again by the rain. The rain, as it fell down from the sky, hit the tiny puffs of flames on his coat, extinguishing them in a smoky hiss.

Spirit at first felt nothing save for the initial injuries received from the impact. After a few moments, he began to feel an intense stinging. It began innocently enough, but it progressed until the man would swear someone was ripping out his muscles, one stringy mess at a time. Next came the agonized howls coming from inside the man. Justin was shrieking in what sounded like his death throes. His soul was splitting apart from Spirit's, literally crumbling away as it was torn from the scythe's aura. Electric waves of energy began to wrap themselves around the blade, soon spreading over Spirit's body. Blood poured from the guillotine blade, and it's surface was now so pockmarked with dings and cuts that it looked like it was about to deteriorate.

Feeling this sudden pain, Spirit's body began to tense up, writhe even, as he screamed out in horrid agony. He could feel Justin's soul being torn from his, his own body feeling like it was aflame as well. His back arched before he relaxed. That tearing sensation from within his soul was gone, as was the static electricity that seemed to engulf his being and the blade. He laid there silently for a moment, thankful for the pain that has seemed to subside. There was a numbed lack of feeling filling its place. He wasn't sure if that was necessarily a good thing, but at this point his weakened body preferred it over the other option which would be ache wracking his body instead. His figure relaxed and became limp as the rain plummeted down and cleansed his dirtied face of mud, ash, and blood. However, once realizing something, his heart began to race and his body tensed up once more.

The boy's soul! It was no longer a part of his, nor could he feel it's presence at all. Quickly, he rolled up into a sitting position, despite the pain that surged through his body. He gazed at the blade. It was dark, and it was bloody. It looked _vacant_ of the boy, and of life. "…..Jasu….?"

Despite the voice coming from Spirit, there wasn't a response of any sort coming from his lover's weapon form. This, of course, caused the hardly beating organ within Albarn's chest seemed to halt entirely. A sensation of suffocation seemed to settle itself around the older man's core forbidding him the gift of breath.

A river of blood was flowing around, and from, the blade. It was sickening, even, the amount that was leaking from that weapon. The fluid was coming down in great globs, slithering off the sleeve before plummeting down onto the already soaked ground. The blade was slowly going black. The metal looked as if it were tarnishing before Spirit's very eyes. Sitting there in the rain, he simply watched the blade, searching for any sign that the boy was alright.

But no sign came.

" …..JUSTIN!"

Suddenly there was a red flash, and an explosion of light blasted out of the blade. No, wait, there wasn't a blade now. It was just a faint outline of the cross which was deteriorating as well. The ethereal light was the display that came whenever someone transformed to or from modes. As soon as the light disappeared, Law was seen standing a few feet away from Spirit. Well, standing, for only about two seconds. From the moment his feet hit the ground, Law's head rolled back. He fell down on his knees, before flopping over. He laid there, tiny sparks of electricity bouncing all over his form on occasion. Up and down, left and right, they scattered over his lifeless husk as a reminder of his broken wavelength. It was now in a stagnant, chaotic mode.

Giriko slowly got up on his feet, and as his eyes came in contact with the scene across the battle field he felt his jaw drop. Was... Law _dead_? That shocked expression quickly became an appearance of a manic sort of glee. Oh, _God_, this tasted fucking _heavenly._ What was this again? Oh, that's right. _Victory_.

"Heh...kehhh eh...HA! HAHA!" Giriko started to laugh uncontrollably, babbling out gleeful nonsense all the same. He ran a hand through his hair, parts of it still smoking. "THE FUCKER! YER DEAD! THAT FUCKIN' PRIEST...HE'S- DIVINE JUDGEMENT, YA BASTARD! _DIVINE JUDGEMENT_-YA EVER HEAR OF THA'? WELL, NOW YA HAVE!"

Spirit had watched on as the young man's body fell. Time had literally seemed to have slowed down. It had stopped just for him as Justin's body lost any strength it might have had and collapsed down onto the drenched earth. He gazed on, his breath leaving him, as Law's body impacted the grass and mud, his face half submerged under the thick brown substance.

Albarn's lips parted slightly, as his heart slowed, its pulse deafening in his ears, before ceasing to beat at all. He was in shock, his body becoming numb.

He felt nothing. He felt nothing from himself, but more importantly nothing from Justin. He felt no aura resonating from the boy's soul.

Was there even a soul still within him?

"Justin…." The words were so quiet, he wasn't even sure if he said them or if he had actually just mouthed them.

It was then that time seemed to resume its regular, frantic pace. Giriko's cries of triumph reached his ear over the sound of the storm. His eyes momentarily moved to look at the horrid creature celebrating his success with a verbal party of gloating. Spirit's eyes were increasingly becoming nothing more than voids as they returned to their sight on his lover's body. Water trickled down his cheeks. Whether they were from his own tears or rain, Spirit wasn't even certain. His entire being was so numb by that point, that it was impossible to tell if anything was broken at all.

He was, however, certain of two things that _were_ breaking: his heart and his will to live.

"Just—tin…" The name escaped his lips just has his body had started to be overcome by sobs, his body heaving violently from the cries that forced their way out of him.

Ever so slowly Spirit crawled his way through the mud, dragging himself closer to the motionless body that was his lover's. "J-…. JASU-! JUSTIN! G-GET UP! PLEASE!" He howled out, his heart breaking sobs reaching a volume that Sou would even be able to hear over the storm. Gripping at the young man's robes, he pulled him up into his lap, clinging to the boy and his buried his face into his freezing clothing and icy skin.

"WAKE UP! J—JUSTIN! C-CAN YOU HEAR ME!" Spirit cried out, his voice muffled.

Justin didn't respond. He couldn't even if he wanted to. His entire body was limp and paralyzed. Although his eyes were closed, his face registered the traumatizing, searing pain he had been enduring. The bands of his broken wavelength hopped and bounced all over his broken body. Each time a bit of the energy touched Spirit, the scythe could feel the hissing, burning pain that the boy was surely feeling _inside_.

A black nothingness. Justin was falling back down into that mental black void. It was that very same place he kept slipping under while fighting Giriko. He was losing his fight, and this time it would take a miracle for him to wake back up. He had been listening to Spirit's voice all along, but gradually it became tinny, and the rain that slapped against his face and beaten body no longer sounded like ceremonial gunfire for his funeral. He was slipping away.

Justin's synapses in his brain were misfiring due to the heavy onslaught of pain and agony. He was literally losing control of his mind, and the parallel between realities and hallucinations blended so perfectly that he couldn't tell a difference. Spirit was holding him but, in his mind, behind closed eyelids, he saw Jordon bending down to help pick him up. The muddy ground and the trees around him weren't there in his paradise. He was in a windswept meadow, surrounded by sun kissed flowers. The dark sky above him was gone. In his mind, he saw the brilliant white light of heaven. A bright radiance that beckoned for him, just as his son was.

"J-… J-… Jasu," Spirit sobbed, grabbing the young man tightly. He clutched at his lover's clothes, shaking him gently as his head rolled about, lolling around to the movement. "JUSTIN! PLEASE!" He cried out in desperation. Justin was slipping from him, and his own sanity was slipping from him as well.

The entire time, Giriko had been enjoying his victory so much that he had failed to recall that there was still another Deathscythe he could have the honor to kill. However, hearing those wails, those crying pleads, his head snapped back over to the two beaten men; their bodies crumpled and laying there across from him. Just as he looked over, he noticed Spirit was slowly beginning to stand. With obvious trouble, yes, but he was standing. His legs were shaking beneath him, barely keeping himself up… But what was this? Was he picking up Justin too?

Oh _hell_ no.

That _damn_ Shibusen dog wasn't stealing his prize. He had a soul to devour that was rightfully his, a body to further mutilate, even despite its life already being lost. There was no way Giriko Sou would allow for Albarn to get away so easily with _his _reward.

Spirit didn't bother to look over his shoulder at Sou. He, in fact, wasn't even aware that the man was still there. He was in such a state of shock that his lover was dying, or that his lover was already dead, that everything in the world around him ceased to exist. The rain, the trees, the thunder, and wind—they were gone. His wounds, his previous battle with Asura, Giriko…. None of that had ever existed. Right now, the only thing that _did_ exist was he, and Justin. His boy was somewhere in the back of his mind too, but seeing as he wasn't within sight at the moment, Spirit was incapable of even fully being concerned for his currently lost child.

Picking Justin up bridal style, the man pressed his close to his chest. He moved forward, limping out of the clearing created by their explosion of their attacks and to the edge where the forest began again.

Giriko stood in his spot and watched this for a long moment. He watched as the red haired man struggled to take his steps. Spirit was like a wounded deer shot in the leg. He? He was the hunter, simply waiting for the creature to wear itself out before moving in to finish off the dropped animal.

Slowly beginning to limp across the clearing, his boots crunched the scorched earth beneath his heels. He would stalk them, follow them, until Spirit's body gave out. It wouldn't be long, after all.

Sou was truly amused and entertained with the sad display before him. He kept up with ease as Albarn obliviously struggled to keep moving forward. The scythe was stumbling over the roots of trees, pathetically ducking under limbs that grabbed at his hair that was matted with mud and blood. He was like the living dead, moving at a pace that would have made a zombie proud. He pushed on and acted unaffected by anything else, nature wise or Giriko's occasional biting insults, that would have normally halted him.

He was on a mission. Spirit only had one thing on his mind at that moment, and that particular reason for him to still be inhaling and exhaling was to save Justin. He had to get him to a hospital, so a Doctor could attend to his savage gamut of injuries. He had to get him to _someone_ who could take him to clinic of some sort. Had he forgotten though, so easily, that he was out in the middle of a godforsaken forest? If there had been anyone nearby to help at all, they would've come to the sound of screams and revving chainsaws.

Could he even feel the tree limbs scratching away at his skin, or the rain as it plummeted down from the sopped foliage above? Could he feel his own blood trickling down his face before it dropped down, spattering on Justin's lifeless face? Could he not realize that his heart was slowing down, it's tattoo that of a dying man's? Or was it simply the fact that he was too cold and numb, and too much in shock to feel anything? He had slipped past shock, and was now in a comatose like state of denial.

The chainsaw weapon had only ducked his head in order to not hit a branch when he heard a noise. The moment when he passed under that sagging limb, he knew that Spirit had failed to avoid his latest tree branch obstacle. Giriko heard a dulled, wet thud. It was the sound of two bodies hitting the soggy earth.

Snapping his head up out of mocking shock, Giriko glanced at the scene that had just transpired. A curling sneer danced along his face. It seemed like the curtain had fallen, and now the players of the stage were taking their final call.

Spirit's body had landed about fifteen feet in front of him, about the approximate distance he had kept from the man the whole time. He was crumpled pathetically upon the ground. He was laying down face first by a tree, his body broken and spent. Blood seeped out from his many wounds, beginning to paint the dirt beneath him a glorious hue. A single low, soft wheeze was expelled from the scythe as the pain began to tear him apart for the last time.

When Spirit had crashed to the ground, he had lost control of holding Justin's frail, and possibly deceased, body. He had nearly thrown the boy as he fell, causing him to land a few feet from one of Spirit's outstretched arms. The priest was lying on the ground, motionless, and on his side. Even though he was facing away from both his fallen lover and their psychotic killer, it was apparent to Giriko that his chest was neither rising nor falling.

For minutes on end neither of them stirred. Giriko knew he couldn't sense souls as well as some others could, but he could at least feel power and a type of life source radiating off of beings. He felt victorious because he couldn't feel Justin's soul wavelength at all. Spirit's own aura was hardly there. His power was dimly noticeable. The chainsaw could see the barely alert scythe shivering and trembling from the horror or realization he was facing.

Sou stepped across the short distance, closing the gap between him and his fallen foes. His feet squished over the mud, leaves and scattered pine needles dropped by the towering behemoths of foliage overhead. He looked down at them. "Tch, ain't this a sad sigh'…"

Abruptly the man reached down, stretching out a rough hand to grab Spirit by the back of the head. He lifted him by a fist full of the man's drenched crimson locks, loving the fact that the scythe's hair was tangled up from the debris of their battle. Giriko grunted, forgetting how hard it was to lift Spirit. He wasn't like Justin, that's for sure. The priest was like a lightweight feather when it came to weight. Sure, the man wasn't fat or anything, but he _was_ still heavy compared to Law. Giriko, however, knew this didn't matter. He had no intentions of keeping him suspending like this for a long period of time.

Spirit sobbed out, gasping for a much needed breath. Stinging tears lined his eyes. He slowly reached out with a trembling hand. He was attempting to reach for his lover. He wanted to grab the boy and hold his cold body close to him. He wanted to stroke his hair, hoping to somehow give him the rest of his burning out, flickering flame of life so the boy could live. Spirit tried to suppress his sobs as he choked out, "I don't think ... we knew what we were getting ourselves into Justin. I... don't think... we can win this time..."

Spirit's emerald eyes were filled his pain and fear. He was paralyzed in horror not for the fact that he would die, but that _Justin would die before him._

The Deathscythe slowly drug his gaze away from his seemingly lifeless lover, turning his focus towards the chainsaw that was holding him instead. He looked directly into those hard brown eyes of the chainsaw's. Despite Spirit staring right at him, Giriko wasn't even sure if he _saw_ him. Was he so broken that he couldn't even make sense of what he saw before him? Was he hallucinating? Why wasn't he screaming? Why wasn't he crying out? Where was the cowardly pleading for his life that most people did when face to face with their killer? Why hadn't he even given him the slightest whimper when he had yanked up by the hair?

"Wha'! YA FUCKIN' DEAD ALREADY SCYTHE?" Violently Sou rammed Spirit's head into the truck of the nearest tree before releasing the battered weapon. Spirit flopped to the ground, toppling over on his side. He was lying there upon that desolate ground, limp and practically lifeless.

"WHY YA STILL BREATHIN'? You're _pissing_ me off. Jus' _die_ already if ya ain't gonna give me no reactions!" Snarling, Giriko's hands clenched into fists, chains manifesting on his lower leg. It was the leg that Albarn had sliced open. He could see the horrid wound and the blood that stained the majority of that part of his pants. Oh, how ironic it would be if he killed him now using the chains coming forth from that leg. _Karma indeed_, he thought.

Albarn could vaguely hear Giriko as he shouted out those insulting words. Everything sounded so warped, like he was within a tunnel. His vision was narrow and restricted and all peripheral view was gone. He stared at Sou as the man had lifted his leg over him, ready to slam it down on his neck. He smiled, almost welcoming the action. Perhaps this would end the pain and send him to the place Justin had gone. He was about to mutter some final words, but something caught his eye. He lazily moved his gaze about, trying to catch another small glimpse of what it was.

There! There it was. It was a beam of light. It was swinging through the sky, over the tree line before it came back down. The light was searching for objects. No… the light was searching for _them_. Was it… coming from a flashlight?

"YA READY TO SAY GOODNIGHT!"

He hardly heard that shriek. Whatever Giriko's muffled words had cried out, Spirit would have had no objection to his death sentence. The only thing he did was try to get back towards Justin. He turned his body slightly and began clawing his way through the mud towards him. His body was shuddering under his exertion, threatening to shut down on him at any given moment.

"PWAPA! DWADDY!"

Once again, another series of muffled cries were heard. Spirit turned his head. His vision was starting to fade and become dangerously dark, before oddly becoming… red? He saw Jordon burst out through the vegetation. He saw an array of intense lights behind him, and the silhouettes of people working their way through the brush as well.

Slowly turning his head back to where Giriko had been, he found he was gone. Vanished. No longer present. He had fled, escaping before he would all too obviously be out numbed by the massive number of people that now flooded into the area. The question the crept into Spirit's mind was how long had he been gone? Had he actually left ages ago, and it was just his imagination playing out that Giriko was there, harming him physically and emotionally?

Laying there on the ground, his head now no longer finding the ability to move, he stared at the people as they joined them beneath the trees. He saw familiar faces, but at that moment he couldn't quite put names to them. Who where they? He knew them, didn't he? Why couldn't he remember?

He saw a blue tattooed man, which oddly reeked of death, shouting out orders. He was directing some of the people holding weapons to go about in different directions. There was a stitched up man, who had glasses that glistened and gleamed when a flash of lightening streaked overhead. He was rushing towards them. He seemed familiar. Who was he? What was his name? He looked oh so familiar…

The one face he did remember, however, was that of his loving son. That little face was all dirtied up, tears and rain streaming down his cheeks. Spirit parted his lips and tried to speak for him. He was talking, he knew he was. Could anyone hear him? He couldn't hear himself! He screamed out, but still nothing. Had he lost his voice? Had it gone and shriveled up? Did Giriko or Asura somehow damage his vocal cords to the point he'd never speak again?

A young African-American woman dressed in bandages scooped his boy up before he could reach him. Jordon kicked and screamed in her arms, babbling out his pleas and cries. He reached downwards towards Spirit, his little fingers flexing as if he was trying to grab a fistful of air to cling to. After a while Spirit couldn't even hear his little boy's muffled screams. The world only became darker. Who was she? Why was she touching Jordon!

He wanted to get up, wanted to destroy the woman who was now stepping away from him with his son. He _needed_ to be with his boy! However, he suddenly found his vision ripped away from the child and the woman that took him away. It was being put on the gray-haired man as he shined an annoying intense light directly into his eyes. Again, he wondered, who the fuck was he! Why was he shining the light into his eyes and grabbing his face?

The man in the lab coat was soon joined by a short blond female wearing a long skirt, boots and a raincoat with the hood down. She held a tender look of concern on her face. She wore an eye patch. Okay, he knew that, admittedly, that was a bit weird looking. As the gray-haired stitched up man pulled the beam of light away from his eyes, he turned to talk to her. His mouth was moving, but no sound was reaching his ears. The only thing he could hear was the sound of his own beating heart.

_Th-thud…_

_Th-thud….. _

_Th-thud…_

_Th-thud…._

…_.Then nothing….._

The world disappeared from his sight….

Or had just he and Justin just disappeared from the world?

* * *

**Chapter by Wolf _and_ Sporkie.**


	24. Tears and Laughter

**Note: **OHGOD! I AM SO SORRY FOR SUCH A LONG WAIT! I know this is no excuse but life has been really busy/crazy lately. Lost interest in writing for a bit too... and unfortunately Wolf will no longer be continuing the story.

It had been great writing with her for the past 19 months or so, and I hope I get the chance to again someday.

However I am coming to a close here, so bear with me while I write up a my last chapter or two. It's been fun, and I hope you all have been enjoying the story as well.

* * *

**Chapter 24: Tears and Laughter**

Intense sunlight drenched the early morning as it rose, its rays climbing over the horizon in the east and stretching over the desert environment. Birds, which had been up even before the bright star its self, graced the day with their melodies, and Death City's citizens rose from their warm sanctuary of pillows and blankets to prepare for another routine day of their busy lives.

The vivid radiance seeped past the wooden blinds of the hospital; its illumination spilling across the brown-speckled tile floor in rectangular strips creating a pattern on the ground. All was rather quiet among the rooms. People rested, some moved about readying themselves for what would surely be another demanding day ahead of themselves, some just getting off the night shift and returning to their abodes for some well deserved sleep. The shuffle and dull thuds were heard outside in the halls from the rooms as doctors and nurses went about their work, pushing around carts, carrying clipboards, or simply a cup of coffee. But specifically within one room, along with the occasional reverberation from outside the door, there were two soft steady beeps that resonated through the small space.

The darkness faded away as Spirit opened his eyes, greeted by the morning light that permitted him to see his surroundings. With a foggy head he glanced around. He saw the warm, neutral, colors of the room, the paintings on the wall, the shinigami-skull candle sticks. He saw machines around him, a blanket over him, and an IV in him. Was he in the hospital? But how did he get here? Trying to fight his dazed state off he glanced away from the window and noticed another bed beside him.

In that bed was none other than Justin Law with his eyes closed and his face calm. The young priest was hooked up to a heart monitor. The soft beeping reaching Albarn's hears, as well as the beeping from his own. Justin was also hooked up to an IV, his body bandaged up and covered by a blanket to keep him warm in the propped up bed. Spirit groaned as he sat up to get a better look at the boy. He looked so broken. Spirit could only imagine what he himself appeared like. His heart began to ache as memories started flooded back to him. He recalled racing towards Justin, wearing that god awful Asura cosplay, grabbing onto him, telling him the bad news that their son had gone missing, he remembered Maka helping him, giving them a direction to follow. They set out, they stayed at a hotel then started out the next morning. They found the captures… then the fight. Oh lord, the hell they had gone through. As he relived the events through his memories he started to become overwhelmed, heart racing as tears welled in his eyes.

However, thankfully, his thoughts immediately halted when he noticed a little patch of red snuggled down on the bed beside Justin on the side opposite of him. A little bright crop of hair? It took Spirit a moment to process what he saw. Almost in disbelief that what he saw was actually there. "...Jordon...?" Spirit eyes welled with his eyes.

Jordon slept soundly beside Justin, he was uninjured for the most part, and a few bandages were all he adorned along with a little SpongeBob Band-Aid here and there. All he suffered from was mainly scrapes and bruises. He didn't respond to Spirit was he spoke, and the scythe's only thought for why he wouldn't answer was that he was probably far too exhausted to react.

Justin laid there, too deep in his sleep to even respond. He winced hearing Spirit's voice, as if he registered it. Nothing, though, signaled that he had woken up by the man's voice.

Law had snuck his one arm out from underneath the safety of the blankets. It was covered in so much linen bandages it looked like the arm of a newly fresh mummy. Blood soaked through some of it, but otherwise they did their part keeping him healthier than he was. The arm was wrapped around Jordon, in such a fashion that it was done subconsciously.

Laying back down Spirit let out a sigh as he looked over at the two sleeping on the other bed; His family was safe. It was almost a miracle at this point. If he had, had doubts in a God watching over them before, they had vanished now. "Thank you..."Sighing he shifted his head a bit, making it more comfortable as he watched the two with half-lidded and tired eyes. He was weak yet, but he knew his strength would be restored, especially now to see his family in better hands and care.

Hearing the click of the door Albarn adverted his eyes to the sound he had heard from across the room. The wooden door by the draped window that looked into the hallway opened, the barrier swinging open and revealing a young African-American woman bandaged up as though she herself were a patient. However that was not the case, this was their nurse, this was Nygus.

"Well, good morning. I wondered when you'd finally wake up." She gave a soft laugh and while Spirit could see the brightness illuminating up her eyes, if it weren't for the dressings wrapped around her face, he would see the lambent smile making her features light up as well. Cheerily she walked over to his bed and reached for his charts that hung at the end of it. Deftly she flipped a few pages, and took down the pencil that was stuck behind her ear. "How are you feeling today?"

"Sore..." Spirit murmured, stating the obvious. His head was still cloudy, but slowly coming back to him. He flexed his muscles a little, but instantly regretted it when pain shot through his nerves. He winced.

"Sore? Well, that's to be expected. Even Shinigami-sama is amazed you two lived with the level of injuries and blood loss you sustained."

When he heard the mentioning of his lord's name he looked up at her rather quickly. "Shinigami-sama...?" A sudden look of fear crossed over his features. "Is he upset with my actions...? H-he told ordered me not to leave-! but- he-he must understand, right?"

She laughed at the sudden paranoia with Spirit. "No... he's a little miffed, but he actually understands and forgives you. He's mad you didn't come get help sooner. When we found you had gone missing, we caught up with Maka and asked her. We got a hint from her, and had to follow you two's tracks."

Glancing back up towards the woman he watched her a few moments silently as she jotted down some final notes between talking, before moving his glance toward his son and lover and back again. He paused moment thinking, "Has Justin woken up yet…?"

Looking up from clipboard the young woman glanced back at him. She slowly put the chart back, hooking it back up to the end of his bed before she looked over at Justin, then back at Spirit. "...No. He was once up, but only for about five minutes. He was babbling nonsense, screaming hysterically about chainsaws and that the Kishin was after him."

Spirit went silent as the woman explained this, pain filled the look in his eyes before moving his gaze to Justin and his boy. He was concerned now, that not only Jordon might suffer from trauma of the event, but Justin Law as well. "How long has it been since you found us?"

"You've been here...almost a week." Nygus did a quick mental count in her head, and the nodded to confirm it. "Yes, about a week, give or take a day." She moved over to Justin's bed now and grabbed his charts. She checked the machines he was hooked up to, scribbling out some notes before putting his charts back where they belonged.

The man's mouth parted as his eyes widened. A whole week? He stared at her in disbelief. Had it really been that long? Quickly he sat up again, pain shooting through his body, but he ignored it. "W-Where has Jordon been staying this entire time?" He asked with concern lining his tone. Sighing he reached up and ran a hand through his hair, his red locks being pushed back.

"My house," she said with a soft, musical sort of laugh. "I love kids, you know... so I decided to babysit him while you two were nearly comatose. I've... well, I've enjoyed our time together, even if it was under grave circumstances." She pulled up a chair besides Spirit's bed and sat down. "He's a sweetheart... you two have been blessed with him."

"Thank you," Spirit murmured, resting back down against the bed. He was obviously still concerned and worried, thoughts of what his son might have been suffering through knowing that his parents weren't waking up. Along with that he was also worried about Justin, would he wake up again, or had he missed his chance—and what of his daughter...? "Maka..." He paused as he thought of his daughter. "How is she..? How has she been..?"

She paused, and then tilted her head to the side. "Maka? Oh, she's fine. She's visited almost every day." She pointed with her slender hand to a small, tiny rose in a single vase. It was starting to die; its edges turning brown and wilting, but it was once a gorgeous hue of pink. "That was from her and Soul."

With a somewhat happy sigh, Spirit's emerald eyes moved up to the white ceiling, a slight smile turned up on his lips. He closed his eyes a moment as he thought to himself, however when Nygus spoke up again, he opened his eyes once more to look back at her.

"Is there anything else you'd like to know?" She asked softly.  
"No.. Not at the moment. Thank you, Nygus."

"Then I should be off, just call if you need anything, alright?"

Spirit nodded and once receiving that reply, the woman, exited the room leaving Spirit, Justin, and Jordon in silence. Lying there in the hospital bed he thought for the longest time, thought of Justin, or Jordon, and of Maka. He thought of what life would be like now if one of them would've died… If they hadn't found Jordon, he thought of what they'd be doing if this whole fiasco hadn't started in the first place. How they'd probably be continuing life normally. How Jordon and Justin wouldn't be threatened with possible psychological effects.

The minutes dragged on into hours as Spirit's thoughts turned into simply boredom. The beeping from the technology becoming incredibly annoying, and the worn seams on the sheets of the bed becoming a form of entertainment as the scythe pulled and picked at them.

Just as earlier, the lock to the door clicked as a person's hand twisted the cool metal knob at a gradual pace. It creaked as it was cracked open, and when Albarn glanced up, emerald eyes rising to peer up from the bland sheets, they met none other than the similar shade of green his daughter had inherited from himself. It was Maka.

The young teenage girl blinked when their eyes met, a surprised but thankful appearance crossing over her visage as a small smile turned up on the corner of Spirit's lips.

"Papa?" The girl asked softly, ensuring not to disturb the men laying in the two hospital beds. "How are you feeling..?"

With a slight grunt Spirit sat up in the cot he had been put in. "Well… about as good as I can be after going through a nightmare like that."

The scythe let out a soft chuckle; Maka smiling a little in response but not particularly finding it funny in the least bit, but that was just like her papa to try to and keep the mood light and crack jokes when around her.

Awkwardly stepping across the room Maka sat down in a chair that was positioned between the window and near where her papa rested, her shadow casting across his blankets from the still early morning sun. "How's Justin?"

"Not... really sure." Spirit admitted, obvious worry in his tone, "Apparently he was up earlier—" He decided not to repeat everything Nygus had told him, "But he went back to sleep… A-At least he's not in a coma anymore…"

Both of their eyes moved over to the blonde young man in the bed that was beside Spirit's. They watched in silence for a long moment, neither knowing exactly what to say to each other, the atmostsphere thick and awkward, just as it usually were when the two were alone.

"Aren't you going to be late for class..?" Spirit asked turning his head once more to look back at his bright young daughter.

"Today is Saturday Papa…"

"oh.." He looked away, embarrassed by his question, of course he hadn't been awake, or even conscious for the past week to really know what day of the week it was, but he still felt rather ridiculous. "What are you doing up so early then?" As soon as he said this, his head turned to look on the clock suspended high on the wall across from him to verify that it was indeed early and he didn't just make himself look like a fool once more. 7:30 am, okay he was safe. "It's certainly not like you to get up quite this early on the weekends. Shouldn't you be sleeping in?" He moved his head again to look back at her.

More silence followed and while Spirit found it once again awkward, Maka was actually taking the time to think on how to reply to that. Usually, yes she would still be asleep at this hour, or at least not out of the apartment yet, let alone out of her pajama's. However, as soon as he heard that her father was awake, she wanted to see him right away. In all truth she had been worried sick about his condition. Sure he was a cheating moron who sometimes lacked respect and responsibility, but he was still her Papa… Whether she liked to admit it or not. She still loved him, if only for the things he had done in the past such as read her bedtime stories or let her play with his hair… She stilled loved him… And while also concerned of losing him herself, she couldn't forget that she wouldn't be the only one left without one of her parents… There was little Jordon too.

"Nygus called and said you were awake," Maka murmured, rather bashfully as if embarrassed by that fact she was so quick to get down here. "I.. wanted to just see if you needed anything was all. Like a change of clothes perhaps?"

Spirit blinked once hearing Maka's voice after such a long pause. His visage softened, eyes casting downwards as he thought and a smile turned up on his lips. Maka did care; she was just too stubborn to admit it. She was a lot more like her Papa than she thought. Spirit shook his head with a light-hearted chuckle.

"I'm fine… Thank you."

"A-Alright.." Maka murmured looking away, appearing a bit flustered. "Shinigami-Sama should be coming to see you soon."

Albarn's eyes snapped back up to meet his daughters a concerned look passing over his expression.

"N-No! Don't worry! You're not in trouble- I don't think you are anyway. I just called him through his mirror to let him know you were okay—"

"You else did you tell?" Spirit asked, a small smirk on his face. It actually warmed his heart a bit to hear Maka admit in an indirect way that she did in fact care about him.

"J-Just Shinigami-Sama… Soul….a-and Mama." Maka replied, rather quickly.

"And me."

Spirit and Maka both turned their attention to the door of the hospital room where a tall man stood. Glasses sat perched upon the bridge of his nose, gray hair hung in his face, and not only did stitches adorn the clothing he wore, but his very flesh.

"Stein-Hakase!" Maka said rather surprised, an uncomfortable look flashing across her green eyes.  
Spirit's own gaze had noted that look in Maka's eyes before he had turned to look at the person who entered. Was the girl hiding something from him? Had she actually let more people more than she admitted to? With a soft smile still noticeable on his lips he moved his full focus to Stein. "What do you want Stein? Come to operate on me?"  
"Must my arrival always signify something bad, Senpai?" He couldn't help but chuckle, a sincere smirk crossing over his visage as he stepped further into the room before he was at the foot of the hospital bed the red haired man rested in. When he stopped, its occupant stirred a little uneasily. Not noting, or perhaps just caring about this action Stein continued with what he was doing and picked up Spirit's charts. "I'm not on the job.. but perhaps I should be.. From the information shown here you're quite a mess. Nothing a little cutting and stitching couldn't fix though."

"H-heh… Thanks for the offer Doc, but I think I'll pass…" Spirit muttered with a gulp. He uncomfortably sat up in the bed as Maka let out a soft giggle.

However all attention was caught when a shuffling was heard from the opposing bed. Almost in perfect unison the three that were previously conversing turned their heads to search for where the soft sound came from. And when at last it was realized, Spirit was the one to receive the largest of smiles as a result of discovering it's source.  
Pushing his little body up off the bed, Jordon rubbed his eyes letting out a sleepy yawn before glancing throughout the room partially dazed. His large blue eyes which he had inherited from his younger father scanned across the people, first spotting Stein, then Maka… then his eyes eventually landing upon the red-haired man in the bed whom sat looking back at him with a thankful smile.  
"Papa…?"  
"Jordon…" Tears welled in Spirit's eyes at the sight of his son awake and healthy. It was such an incredible feeling to see his son awake, and know that his lover had been awake as well. It felt as though their nightmare was finally coming to an end, and their healing process could begin. He could hold his family in his arms again, and not have to worry. "J-Jordo! C-Come here Buddy!" He cried out to his son, his voice nearly cracking from the joyous tears that threatened to escape him. "Come here!"

Slipping off of the bed where Justin slept soundly, the little red-haired boy disappeared a moment behind the height of the cot before appearing once again scampering around it's end and rushing over to Spirit's bed. He grabbed a couple fist fulls of blankets and pulled himself up onto the furniture with a tad bit of struggle. Once up he flung himself at his older father, clinging to the off-white gown that the hospital had provided for Spirit. The child's hands bunched up the fabric, his face buried deep into Albarn's stomach. As Spirit looked down on his son a smile became noticeable on his lips, but as did the tears that ran down his cheeks. With the arm that wasn't attached to an IV, Spirit gentle stroked Jordon's firey hair, his thumb rubbing over the boy's soft locks. "It's okay Jordon.. Daddy and I aren't going to let anything like that happen ever again…"

A small whimper escaped the child, his face still hidden by Spirit's stomach. The man winced a tad due to the contact and pressure against his weak and hurt body, however didn't say anything to make the boy get off of him. He didn't want him to leave, he didn't care about the pain, Spirit simply wanted to hold his son in his arms. "Come on buddy, what's wrong?" A warm comforting smile turned up on Spirit's lips as he looked down at his son, the child looking back up at him with teary eyes.

"I mwissed you Papa…"  
"I missed you too, Kiddo." His smile widened, but quickly he scooped up his boy, holding him tight, squeezing him and beginning to tickle him, despite the pain that it caused his body.

Jordon erupted into laughter, his tears turning into tears of laughter as he tried to fight free. Maka and Stein stood aside, watching this, even bringing a faint smile to Stein's face while Maka was almost brought to tears at the memories this reminded her of, and of the relief that indeed her father was safe.

But again, the attention of the occupants in the room was caught by that of a soft sound, and glancing over they found that the other victim to this nightmare had again awoken.

When Spirit and Justin's eyes met, blue to green, tears welled up in both of them. A silent conversation of the fear and pain they had felt, but the comfort being understood that it was all over now and they could resume their lives passed between them. A smile turning up on Justin's lips he weakly moved his head to look back up at the ceiling. "Thank you Lord for your assistance and guidance..." He murmured softly after he closed his eyes.

Visitors came and went some staying for only moments while others stopped by for a few hours. Maka left shortly after Justin had awaken, however made several stops back throughout the day. Stein even made multiple stops, though mainly ensuring that the two were getting the treatment that the needed to heal properly. Shinigami-Sama visited, much to Spirit's concern. However was pleased to find out that the God was not irritated with his actions, but instead just wished them both to get well soon because the lack of two death scythes was putting the safety of the citizens at risk.

Later in the evening once their meals were served to them, Spirit and Justin sat quietly forking in small bites of food with their aching arms. Both looked up when a faint knock was heard on their door. Spirit gave a quick glance to Justin, who nodded in response. Swallowing his bite Spirit then answered, "Come in!"

To both of their surprise however, a rather curvy woman with purple hair and bright yellow eyes stepped into the room. "B-Blair?" Spirit mentioned a little in shock as his expression matched his tone.

Justin looked over to his lover a moment, before back at the woman, a slight pain of jealousy welling inside his already pained body. He didn't think Spirit would cheat on him for her, but he couldn't help but be jealous of how attractive this woman was.

"Hello Papa-saann~!" The young woman trilled, waving her fingers at him while smiling sweetly. She stepped fully into the room pulling up a chair to sit between the two beds. "How are you too feeling? Where is little Jordo~?" She questioned.

"We're alright. Going to be a while until both of us are one hundred percent better though." Spirit replied, Justin nodding in agreement.

"Jordon went home with Nygus for the night." Law said, answering the cat's second question. He looked away, seeming to be obviously upset and missing his little boy already.

"Blair was worried about you Papa-san and Priest-san so much! And especially little Jordo! You are both such amazing parents to go out and fight like that for your little boy."

Both men a bit flattered by this comment they smiled, Justin fiddled with his food, chasing a pea around his plate. While Spirit looked at Blair and replied, "Well isn't that was any parent would do?"

There was a moment of silence at the thought of this. Certainly that should be what any parent might do, but how many parents might actually go out and do that by themselves?

"Perhaps~, " Blair mentioned at last, "All I know is that Jordon is a lucky little kiddo! But I knew Papa-san would take good care of his baby, just like he would Maka! That's why he has Jordon!"

Spirit's expression became puzzled, his head cocking to the side at her comment. What on earth was she talking about? Justin's visage became rather similar as he slowly looked up at his plate, a questioning look present on his face but also a slight look of as if he was about to have an epiphany. "What do you mean, Blair..?"

Shifting herself on the chair she crossed her legs and placed her hands in her lap, a little smirk turning on her lips as if satisfied and thinking highly of herself. "Well you see~ A long long time ago I saw Papa-san walking on the street by himself, he looked incredibly sad and upset. And I know how Papa-san is so happy when he is around Maka-chan….sooo~!"

Spirit gulped, suddenly afraid of where this was going.

"Blair-chan used her magic and put a spell on Papa-san, so that the next time he spent the night with someone, they would get pregnant and he could have another baby with them!" With that, she ended her sentence with a giggle.

Spirit's eyes widened as Justin's mouth fell open, both in disbelief. So then, Jordon had been brought into existence because a cat with overly powerful magic had put a spell on Albarn? Suddenly this made so much more sense to the two of them. Up until then they hadn't the slightest clue how on earth a young man could bare a child, but now the reason could be traced back to a woman who just wanted to make one man's life a little more happier…

And indeed that was just what she accomplished.

Looking away from Blair and at one other, Spirit and Justin looked back at each other's odd expressions, and almost at the same exact time both burst into laughter at how ridiculous the other looked, but more directly because of the chances at which this had happened. Had Blair waited another day, or done it anytime before, surely it would have been some random date Spirit would've picked up, and not the helpful young priest who had picked him up off the street on that fateful night.

Wiping his tears Spirit glanced back to Blair shaking his head still trying to wrap his mind around the probability of it all.  
"Thank you Blair… Thank you… You made 'Papa-San' very happy."

* * *

**Chapter mainly by: Sporkie  
Some by: Wolf**


	25. A New Beginning

**Chapter 25: A New Beginning**

Dust floated through air, dancing together and around one another as it did when captured within the golden rays of the sunlight. The room itself seemed to be glowing with a shade of amber, mixed with reds, greens, and purples splayed across the wooden flood as a result of the decretive and elaborate stained-glass windows. Two rows of pews lined the rather small but cozy Catholic Church, about half of which were filled with attendants. An older man adorned in the best of white and gold clergy robes stood before the children of god, those of which you had cared to join him on this Sunday morning service. He recited gospels and preached what the Bible encouraged. His body was old and wrinkled- ancient from years of aging; however it was clear that while he appeared to be weak, his faith in God was resolute.

As he preached, a small boy with messy bright red hair sat dressed in his best. A perfect and fresh little white button up dress shirt, formal black jeans, and recently shined black shoes adorned his tiny body. He listened intently, his big blue eyes focused on the individual who spoke. His feet kicked back and forth as he sat, swinging similar to pendulums from his suspended seat on the wooden pew. Beside him was his Papa, the one from whom he had inherited his unusually red locks. He however, while paying attention, didn't seem quite as alert to what the priest had to say. He sat lounged back in the pew, not appearing to be entirely engaged, although not bored out of his mind either. On the other side of the small boy was his daddy, the blonde young man with those similar blue eyes was quite the opposite of his other parents. His incredibly devoted catholic dad held a leather bound bible within his slender fingers, turning the parchment of which the word of God had been printed upon and followed along very carefully.

It had been six months since that tragic event; that nightmare the three of them had been unwillingly thrust into. Most physical wounds had healed, but the Death Scythe of North America still feared for his family on any mental wounds. Everything seemed fine, which he was thankful for, so far no signs of post-traumatic stress disorder in either of the young men that he cherished, and he could only pray that it would remain that way. Speaking of praying, Spirit had made it an effort to ensure they made it to church every Sunday, not only because it was something that his love, Justin, enjoyed but he couldn't help but feel their situation might have very well had been caused as a punishment from a higher being.

At last when the service was coming to a close, Jordon attempted to sing along with the religious melodies that the men and woman of the choir graced the room with. He mumbled and guessed a majority of the lyrics, sometimes just simply making sounds at a note as similar as he could. Both Justin and Spirit couldn't help but find this sight rather amusing. It occurred every Sunday, causing even Law to smirk and snicker a little between verses.

Tiny fingers clasped around that of Albarn's large hand as he guided the child from the church and outside, Justin in pursuit beside him. All three of them together exited the holy structure, stepping into the warmth of the morning sun of an early summer day. Already in this Nevada inhabitance the temperature was reaching greater numbers, and it wasn't long before Albarn found himself discarding his black suit jacket from his body, slinging it over his shoulder, and grasping it lightly while the other was occupied by his little boy's hand who refused to let go for a stupid article of clothing.

"Papa?" The little voice had captured the attention of both parents, each of them casting their eyes to meet the child's, however it was Spirit who replied.

"Yea, buddy?" He questioned, a gentle grin turning up on his lips, causing wrinkles to appear at the corners of his emerald eyes, "What is it?"

"Can we gitta ice cweam cone?"

Spirit's grin widened as a chuckle escaped him, he turned his head towards Justin, the motion causing a few strands of hair to fly loose and into his face. "What do you say, Jasu? Do you think we can go get an ice cream cone?"

Law himself smiled when he saw that man look towards him; his heart fluttering as their eyes met, blue meeting green. He was so focused on Spirit that he hardly heard the question that had been presented. "Hmm..?" He asked, lifting his head as he blinked as if suddenly alert, and as Spirit answered once again he pushed the strands of red hair out of the older man's face.

"I said, do you think we can go get an ice cream cone?"

"Oh yes, of course." Justin replied, rather embarrassed that he had to have Spirit repeat himself.

The red-head offered his younger lover a soft genuine smile before moving his suit jacket so it could rest upon his shoulder without the assistance of his hand. With this palm now free, he grasped that of Law's. His large hand wrapped gently around the small fragile and lanky one of his companions before allowing his thumb to gently brush over the back of Justin's hand. From this, Justin glanced up at the man returning the smile but added a faint rosy blush unintentionally.

Together, the family linked by their hands, they walked to the park where Spirit knew they would find the nearest Ice cream stand. When at last they had managed to tell the ice cream man what they wanted after curious little Jordon's struggle to decide on just one flavor, they took their cones and continued on their stroll.

Coming towards the bridge what stretched over the creek Spirit stopped, Jordon being caught off guard by this while Justin joined the older man in his gradual halt to over look the water. It glistened in the rays of the desert sun as it slithered through the park, patches of trees casting shadows over the shallow rock bottom creek. Spirit's hands let go of Jordon's and Justin's and he used his elbows to rest upon the railing of the bridge, his breathing becoming more manual.

First the red-head glanced toward his small son, the little grinning face with chocolate ice cream smeared across his face. Spirit couldn't help but chuckle at the sight however it didn't take long before his mood became all too uneasy once again.

"Do it, Pwapa."

The child's words pressured him, but that little ice cream adorned smile helped to reassure him.

Glancing towards Justin, he could see the interest that was growing in those at once hard to read blue irises. "Do what, Spirit?"

Gulping down the lump that was forming in his throat Albarn's eyes moved away to the water once more. His fingers interlaced with one another, fidgeting with the other palm's members out of discomfort. All the while he could still feel both Justin's and Jordon's eyes fixed upon him. Jordon's feeling of anticipation, while Justin's felt unsure and concerned even.

"Justin..?"

The young man blinked. "Yes Spirit?"

Gulping once more and clearing his throat, the Death Scythe of North America pushed himself up off the railing of the bridge and adjusted his body to it directly faced his lover. "As you know, we've been through quite a lot now. Coming up on six years now of both joyous moments and nightmare-like situations… And, not for a moment did we ever seem to falter… or give up with the other…"

Jordon seemed to be holding his breath by this point, while Justin found it hard to even breathe. What was Spirit trying to say..?

"And… also, as you know, I find joy in being around you, and find things difficult to go through without you…"

"S-Spirit…?" Justin murmured, but the man did not react to the younger man's voice, simply continued on.

"So-… So… I guess what I am trying to say is that… I'd like to be with you for as long as I have the opportunity to live. As long as I can be with you, I want to be, Justin." Spirit bit his bottom lip before he reached a hand down into his pocket and fished out a little black box before beginning to kneel down onto one knee.

At the sight of this Justin's eyes began to well with tears and he lifted his hands in a hurry to covering his gasping mouth. As the priest did this, little Jordon let out a happy cry of laughter.

When Albarn glanced up, emerald green meeting misty blue eyes, he couldn't help but hold back the emotions that had been threatening to burst through. Despite his voice feeling as though it could crack any moment due to his blissful tears and the lump lodged in his throat he asked clearly,

"Justin Law, will you marry me?"

* * *

**Chapter by: Sporkie**

**Alright. So this is where we unfortunately part. That would be your conclusion to Loyal Lives and Forbidden Love. Thank you all so much who took the time to read through this, and I surely hope those of you who did enjoyed it. I apologize for having to make you all wait for this final chapter, I would give an excuse, but there is no excuse as to why it was late to be updated. I know if Wolf was still working on this with me, she would like to thank you all as well. We both put a lot of effort into this piece of work, and it made us both incredibly happy to see people enjoying our Fanfic. So I want to thank you all once more, and I want to thank Wolf as well. This was quite a fanfic we managed to crank out, and I hope she's just as proud to see such a long project with so much effort crammed into it completed as I am.**

Also, I am undecided as of yet, but I MIGHT write a sequel to this, so be sure to subscribe [or favorite or whatever it is here on fanfic] my page if you want to read more. However if I do continue on with a second installment, it might not be available to read for quite sometime. It's much harder for me to write a story of this size when I don't have Wolf's assistance.

**- Sporkie**


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